Abu Rakham
July 15, 2017
Soft
Atlantic
rain
kisses my scalp –
a thousand kisses –
though we are miles from any sea.
Frogs fill the night with their
machine‑gun love song,
drowning the
mosquito hum.
Gentle swish,
benign,
of raindrops on sapling leaves, old
thatch and
fresh grass,
moon only guessed at,
hidden
by motionless cloud.
All these – all
you –
people,
asleep on crooked beds,
not hearing the
creak of the wheel, but
turning with it
through sleep and
the changes it brings.
Tonight I learned I’ll leave this place:
suddenly I love it.
(Published in Other Poetry)
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