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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4644 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Humidity Carole Barley (Vienna) Seemingly endless, this August rain, fashioning rats-tails and the scent of electricity in treacle-humid air. The wipers flail, damp palms finger gearstick with some smiled upon urgency; Interior windows misted. You say you do not care for warm rain; I see a kneeling in ocean scented grass. Thigh inside thigh, rivulets rounding shoulder, growing heavy; slowing, crazing down the switchback of your arm. I do not care for gray myself, prefer the terror of cumulonimbus uncertainty. Touchpaper, flint. Counting the seconds to myself between the flash and the thunder. |
