I see the underbellies of birds, dark and undistinguishable feathers below the bursting but blue clouds.
The sky is without sunlight, the colour wrapping it is like the old womb of industry, revolutionary but past, the iron furnaces are gone. The air is untainted and silent. There is no chill or heat, neither fire nor ash. Only unwavering pleasant swirls of gusty drafts, painting the motions of a storm but never reaching one.
Tag: Rain
New paint
The way home; as the footprints taper
I see yesterday’s footprints
have collected rainwater
An argument
stitched together in pauses
and a flickering lampshade
all that remains is hate
The damp walls-
the smell of rotting paint
with every breath
sweats into me
a strange intoxicant
I am home again
Energetic sleep–
an errant twig scratching
the broken moonlight-etched window
I wish I dreamt
of an old photo, us
in an blur of star shine
Mockery
A cat splays,
Plays, and sunbathes
Teasing the minutes before the rain.
Rain
Nightly rains
more and more stars
on swaying leaves.
Puddles
A puddle ripples,
a shoe is lifted,
the mud pops,
the trees shiver,
rustling overhead.
Rijul Ballal 