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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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She is enough

 She sits there

And the shadows of the netted fence crawl on her skin

Like spiders.

She sits there

And her presence is enough.

She doesn’t need spectacles,

A cigar,

Or be able to raise one eyebrow

To attract.

She just sits there

And her presence is enough.

The sun falls,

The shadows shift,

And the little make up she’d put on begins to fade.

And she is

Still, still enough.

Yet everyone wants more,

Everyone expects more,

Everyone wants to see her ugly

In powders and makeup.

She tells me she hates it

And I nod my head.

She is a Rodin sculpture,

And putting on makeup is like chipping away the biceps.

I nod my head again.


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