for Stick, also for me, for our forever young childhood memory
(starts to sound as if i wrote it, i'm so sorry Master Zamora)
Downpour
-Daisy Zamora
From an airtight office window
I gaze out at the downpour
Yellow flowers
From an acacia shaken by the wind
roll along a rusty tin roof
A fish in a fishbowl
I recall with envy the young girl who was
Drenched and happy, jumping
Mud puddles and ignoring calls
Because later
My go-between great aunt
Hidden from grandfather
Would dry my hair,
Change my clothes,
Clean the mud off my shoes.
And wrapped up in a bedspread
Warm as love
I slept
An old downpour that succeed in soaking me
Only within
Is now beating the tin roof,
Flooding the canals and levies
And the riverbed of memory
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Downpour
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