New Monsoon

January 7, 2010
I think about monsoons,
the long round word.
It sounds like tides,
like the moon the pull and rise.
Water thickens the air,
the pavement slick with it;
the city turns into a river,
slow and deep and green.

Here we have big clouds too.
Daughters of the fire;
sick and dark they hang and
refuse to rain.





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