There is nothing more
to say
to see
to listen to.

Don’t try.

We have scars on our eyelids
bodies falling
dust clouds
screams.

There are children for whom
it is already history
vague events
that littered the world
before they were born
Moses and Mother Theresa
as contemporaries
in shadow stories.

There is nothing to say
yet we can’t stop talking.

n.m.rai

possibilities

we walk
into possibilities

even in the darkness
of blind tunnels

n.m.rai

It's a cold morning
that smells of death

the news speaks
of eco collapse

in the middle
of the century

and images of
the plague years

resurface
in this species brain

we insist
on denying

as if we were
bodiless thoughts

scurrying from one satellite
to another

nmr

Triad

i.

We lick mystery out of the air
as we scuttle around in the dust
and sweep our rooms.

We have names for everything
we don't understand
pencilled in letters in midair.

We eat imported apricots out of season
and feel blessed while
babies die in bombings.

ii.

Cracks appear in the sand
which is impossible
yet they are visible.

Blind lizards rise speaking
the words of holy books
and are captured on film.

We walk through the remains
of our minds and tell
stories of the old certainties.

Flies hum and lay eggs on walls.
Someone tells of seeing a phoenix
struggling in the ashes.

iii.

I had garlands in my house
and the ceiling was hung with roses.

Mango and lychee fell from trees.
Lemongrass and ginger
scented morning tea.

I drank dawn light and
wove rainbows into cloth.
The birds spoke to me of God.

Errant bombs found me
and now I live like a rabbit in a hole
writing poems on outhouse leaves.

n.m.rai

Dragonflies

They're not built
for speed or eternity
with their fragile wings
and shallow breath.

Crowds of them skim ponds
under the screams of rockets.
I wonder if they think of them
merely as larger crows?

n.m.rai

Questions

There are no answers
to these questions
scribbled on the day
of the efficacy of moons
around planets
the causes of war,
why black holes
have such hunger
or any reason
for the terrible fragility
of bodies.

n.m.rai

I wake with hands on keys
dripping words from my face.
I know nothing, just this quiver
of a cell in a momentary breeze.

Bombs break the silence.
Screams fill the air as
bodies carpet the land.
Radio waves tear holes in space.

I sip the morning, this undertaste
of death that binds to every joy
like the hint of bitterness in
the flesh of a peach.

nmr