Downpour

for Stick, also for me, for our forever young childhood memory
(starts to sound as if i wrote it, i'm so sorry Master Zamora)

Downpour

-Daisy Zamora

From an airtight office window
I gaze out at the downpour
Yellow flowers
From an acacia shaken by the wind
roll along a rusty tin roof

A fish in a fishbowl
I recall with envy the young girl who was
Drenched and happy, jumping
Mud puddles and ignoring calls
Because later
My go-between great aunt
Hidden from grandfather
Would dry my hair,
Change my clothes,
Clean the mud off my shoes.
And wrapped up in a bedspread
Warm as love
I slept

An old downpour that succeed in soaking me
Only within
Is now beating the tin roof,
Flooding the canals and levies
And the riverbed of memory