(for Ahila)

Day sets

Again and again the sun spills her fury

The long blemished hands of the years

Wear their marks of caste blood belonging

Sit on in the silence

Feel the old friend breathe

Rising to greet the dried voices, the

Pictures framed in shadow gold dust

That will fall like snow

Night is sudden

The pavements swept clear of people

There is the stomach of the black to turn in

and dream that rain beats on the windowboards

on the brown stalks and

sand graves of

Three months withered flowers

Penang, West Malaysia, May 1998

Robert James Berry

If you've any comments on his poem, Robert James Berry would be pleased to hear from you.