what is the quality of that moment then?

like when you jump from an airplane
and you are in the clouds,
the clouds zooming past you
and you plunging
into a screaming tunnel of clouds…

like when icicles turn brittle your eyelashes,
your tresses flapping frenzied,
the wind blasting through you,
cleansing,
cleansing beyond all cleansing…

like when you think not of heaven or earth;
you think not of anything,
neither perchance the parachute failing,
nor whether you remember
buckling the whole thing on.

what is the quality of that moment then?

*****

Nothing

A jewel in the puddle on the ground
The lamp sheds
As I walk the streets this night.

A twirl-wind spins and lifts
Dead leaves
As I walk the streets this night.

They dance on silent steps
They arch and twist and toss
They strut back, swing and fall
Flashing
A whiff of jasmine on the cheeks.

My cheeks…
Wet with tears…
For nothing.

Homeward,
As I walk the streets this night.

***

poem

at the farthest end of the corridor
a door opens.

light skids down the floor
like skaters exploding a silent slope.

words vanish to open a void
i freeze…

the strains of a poem trip lightly in.

*****

After the cloudburst

Wet night of the cloudburst
When the floods and the traffic
Clog the roads—
The policeman
Waving his glowing batons
Muffled in raincoat—
Sodden like a seed—

Why did we argue?
Why did you hurl that unkind word on me?
Why did I respond the way I did?

I will be home at eight to a warm supper
Of steaming rice and tapioca and pickle
And you, three hours hence—
In all probability—
To pickle and tapioca and steaming rice.

We both need a hot bath before the meal
Back from the wet and the cold...

I can imagine,
You stretching aching legs under the table,
As the old dame
Ladles rice on to your plate.
A funny expression you have on your face,
Mustachios combed down!

Shhhhh… she tells you,
In a hush
Swinging out of reach—

The children,
Don’t you wake them up!

*****