Rain
(Southeast Asia Monsoon)
Jack Baumgarten

Once I was where it rained all of the time.
Canvas sagging against tent poles
under pools of water trapped above.
Floors of mud underfoot,
cold with ridges of black walls and dams
holding each little pool in place.
Sickening warm breezes turning cold
on my wet shivering face.

Joy is sleep
in sodden bed roll
on canvas cot
head buried in damp pillow
of bad smelling rags and clothes
hiding from the tiny lizards
seeking comfort too.

Sadness is morning,
somehow warm in my damp reverie.
Socks and shorts warm with me
hidden under my feet.
Boots camouflaged in dirt
hiding under my cot
and calling to me from their puddle.

Rise I must,
me and that lizard,
shivering again as cover is cast aside.
Arms and legs enter the mildewed cloth
of yesterday’s garments.
Toes feel moisture rise up between them
from saturated inserts below.
The morning cleanup ceremony begins
with wet face staring back out of the small mirror
between running beads of rain.
All of that water
and nothing to brush my teeth with!

Quietness comes
from the sound of rain falling on mud and skin
from boots pulling out of sucking holes
from canvas too wet to complain
about the beat of the rain.
from eyes peering between dripping brows.
from wet pant legs rubbing each other.
from knowing that it will rain again tomorrow.
from when I fall in the mud
to join the rain in that sad hole
as my warm fluids
help fill the space around me.

Soon I will be riding away
On a wet canvas litter
Between two sets of hands
The rain will stop as the zipper pulls
the plastic bag together
across my moist face.
I ride away from that cold damp home
lying amid my brothers
In the misty rain
that never ends.

Talisman Submission
Jack Baumgarten, CW162
650 594 0511
3/16/06