On Dark Nights Like This

a sallow-faced wind patrols the yard this morning
eyes narrowed, hands deep in its grey long coat
like those dour spies from old black and white movies,
there has been little rain
just the odd gust driving ashen clouds
wary of its own incontinence,
we let the silence mark a path through the living room
back and forth, as if talking about him
would change something,
the air or the colour of the light
and we could never enter the room again,
youโ€™re trying not to look at the picture in the corner
as if seeing it would change nothing,
it would never walk in from the kitchen again,
clothes following in metered rhyme,
down the street, the moon slips into a letterbox,
the night sets up a vigil for dawn,
the wind stops to ruffle the head of the neem he planted,
on dark nights like this
who knows if the memories come first
or the tears?

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22 thoughts on “On Dark Nights Like This

  1. “the moon slips into a letterbox,the night sets up a vigil for dawn,the wind stops to ruffle the head of the neem he planted,on dark nights like this who knows if the memories come first or the tears” …Beautifully haunting!โค๏ธ

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  2. Your ‘sallow-faced wind’ is so evocative, Rajani! I love the:
    ‘eyes narrowed, hands deep in its grey long coat
    like those dour spies from old black and white movies’
    and that it is ‘wary of its own incontinence’,
    Another phrase I love is ‘the moon slips into a letterbox’.
    Wonderful!

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  3. there has been little rain
    just the odd gust driving ashen clouds
    wary of its own incontinence,…………….that’s so clever incorpotration the ‘incontinence’ into this fine piece of writing, for me that one word creates so much imagery of threatening weather that may or not happen. And then…..the moon slips into a letterbox… Fantastic read.

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