waiting for it to rain
Saturday night / we’re listening to Romain Collin / waiting for it to rain / after a day in the sunshine / from which we returned different colors / one surprisingly tan / the other lobster red / but just on the front of the thighs and inside of the calves / as if by design
now it’s nighttime / knitting time / stitching it together into something we can slip into / a comfortable garment / one that will last / the air smells like an oncoming storm / we were promised thunder / we’re holding / Mother Nature / to her word /
laughter in the courtyard below / the warm spring-summer night brings out / neighbors I had imagined lost / stacks of unclaimed mail in the foyer / like a message in a bottle / spat out by the angry ocean / the one we can just glimpse from our roof
someone is grilling / someone is smoking a cigarette / lingering incense from morning meditation / Mr. Parke said / when you smell something / tiny particles of it enter your nose / enter you / you are what you smell / though / has never become a popular axiom / not like Carl’s star stuff
it smells like rain / but it’s not just the air out there that is pregnant / tense / the air in the house is also heavy with unspoken meaning / we’ve barricaded the door with pillows / and stuffed animals from our childhoods / to keep out the bogeyman / to keep us safe
21 April 2012
Brooklyn
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It’s National Poetry Writing Month! A poem a day, each day in April.
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