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No 26 - 2005
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| Joanna Ezekiel |
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| Midweek |
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The sun’s an underwater flashlight
that struggles to shine through rainclouds.
You and I bob through a storm of commuters
to reach cafe lights; our worn workplace selves
lurch like puppets between wobbly tables,
disgorge the day’s successes/defeats
through coffee-steam.
Soon I will tell you
of the vast, renewed rainbow I saw
from the train, the stained-glass clarity
of it. Overhead, trains rumble, smooth as cogs.
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page(s) 81
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