by Hone Tuwhare, a New Zealand poet.
I can hear you
Making small holes
In the silence
Rain
If I were deaf
The pores of my skin
Would open to you
And shut
And I
Should know you
By the lick of you
If I were blind
The something
Special smell of you
When the sun cakes
The ground
The steady
Drum-roll sound
You make
When the wind drops
But if I
Should not hear
Smell or feel or see
You
You would still
Define me
Disperse me
Wash over me
Rain
- Hone Tuwhare
I can hear you
Making small holes
In the silence
Rain
If I were deaf
The pores of my skin
Would open to you
And shut
And I
Should know you
By the lick of you
If I were blind
The something
Special smell of you
When the sun cakes
The ground
The steady
Drum-roll sound
You make
When the wind drops
But if I
Should not hear
Smell or feel or see
You
You would still
Define me
Disperse me
Wash over me
Rain
- Hone Tuwhare
No comments:
Post a Comment