The rain turns every roof
into a kettledrum; it gallops along a road until
there is no road; it washes darkness
into silver light and dances
on each puddle of its making. The sky
is flowing down into the forest,
                                                    coming through
the ceiling above tables where
a meal is freshly served, sharpening the razor wire
along defensive walls, washing the blood
from history as it drains into rivers
that drain back into the sky
                                               where everything
begins again, and even the most
venomous of snakes
threads its black, red, and yellow  banded
length through the eye in a jade pendant
made before the Spaniards

had fired a single shot.




David Chorlton
Art: Louis Paton


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