Kevin Keane (30.7.06)

Monsoon

bird crap splashed on windshields
you hope the rain will wash it
off but the heat after
the downpour makes you wilt
more than the gladiolas,
which glare at you defiantly:
“go back to your own garden─
the house─intruder”
another day of apathy
and itching, malaise sinking
into a sea of sweat
beneath the valley of
fatigue, until the twilight
brings the feeble promise
of cooler nights or cocktails



April Dream

the sun pales before
a burst of yellow freesias
in the shade of cedars
at the park
the iridescent faces
of children jumping rope
blooming --
clouds of blossoms float
on cherry trees
petals rain down
in the hands of the wind
to kiss the newborn earth



Forecast

eerie brilliance of stars --
the blinking of the universe
throwing out the tongues of
tomorrow in black nets
flowing down to earth.
a million mouths murmur
prophecies of the morning.
at dawn only a shivering wind
and a shudder of leaves
remain before the promise
of night