Hurricane
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
blown off a moving car mundane occurrences
don’t matter insurance will cover damages it’s
only stuff replaceable in all events except
life that breathes skin that is drenched in the rain or tears
the hand that held yours when others crept away and you
were alone looking at the leaky ceiling with
the roof partly gone streaks of cloud visible perhaps none
of the storm strikes you as odd just the leaking heart you hear
drip drip drip
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream -
she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun -
Walk me through
your caveshow me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom. -
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
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