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T (no first name) Wignesan


Boy running in the rain...


His face swinging from ear to ear
A bemused smile lighting up
his gander gait
under the burlap mop

Who's looking at me
Why is everyone looking at my legs

His mother telling him to be back this summer
before the green peacocks turn to Indian blue
Droplets big as his nightshade eyes bursting at each
swan step

Boy on an errand

The stealthy guilt-ridden leaves of the linden
Motionless in the metallic green boiling flood

Boy still running in the rain

How old am I
As old as the linden when it was eight
Where are the caterwauling magpies this day
None to mock me in my gait

He thinks he's running in the still hot rain
But the cars and trucks along the road shower
In their mindless manic main

Wait till you see my master drive me proud
Over the bridges under high-voltaging cables
My throat loosening up in coughs and curses
The mud drained from my tired gables

Boy still keeps running in the rain

When will the summer end
When the cotton sky turns to lead

Or when the boy stops running in the rain


(©: T. Wignesan July 13,2011 - Thursday, August 4,2011 - Poetry Page: A Long Story Short Website 'Poem of the Month', August 2011.)

Submitted: Wednesday, July 11, 2012

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