NO RAIN
(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.
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