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Siesta (For Chris and Marisa North)

Tamar Yoseloff

 

The rain arrives, decides to stay. It spills
over the terraced hills, drenches the rooster
into silence, floods the roofless villa,
slicks the skins of the persimmon. It hazes
the distant peaks, rides the rapids of the pool,
drives us to our rooms. We chase the cat
from the chaise longue and curl up into sleep.
Daylight drains to evening, an ancient dark,
we wade through airless halls with shuttered windows,
the distant boom of thunder. It will end soon
the weathermen say; we know it will last forever -
we find ourselves submerged in a mire
of speechless hours, when even the clock
can't be bothered to chime.

 

Acknowledgements:

This poem is included in 'Fetch', Tamar's poetry collection from Salt Publishing (ISBN 978 1 84471 291 5). Previous collections include 'Sweetheart' (Slow Dancer Press 1998) and 'Barnards Star' (Enitharmion 2004). Formerly the programme director of the London Poetry School, Tamar tutored courses at the Almassera Vella in 2006, 2008 and 2010. Her latest collection is 'The City With Horns' (Salt ISBN 978 1 84471 818 4)

 

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