For Lowell, MA
By A. T. Halaby
Rain I have spoken of you many times
And suppose I may be distracted by
How I feel completely still and stopped
And without breath to beg to cough
Interrupt your motions
Your many multiplying sounds
If I am to bare my chest
You are my here and now.
Your voice against the windshields
Leather shoes and briefcases
Dripping off gloves and rain slickers
The chills come and stay quicker
And leave little teeth marks
Wet printed shadows
Like words vanished from a page
Like waking up and having no trace.
The patter on the pavement
From the umbrella off the nose
The traffic of the morning streets
Swishing along no place to go.
Your sound as full as an orchestra
A concert for all around
My body remembers you softly
As any beginning surely sounds.
Eyes heavy as memory makes them
As grey as the clouds above my house
As warm from any pure moment
As I stand for a final sound.
Inside listening to the chatter
The gossip in the trees
Green and anew, healed and defined
O memory you depart and return with shine!