Later, of course, catastrophe
but for now
there might as well be oceans,
floating outside this apartment.
summer has fallen
in a thick soup of rain,
and the green moves
as wind moves through it,
kicking up leaves
and looking underneath them.
this is paris – we are in an apartment
on a fifth-floor walk-up, trading sips
of the drinks we’re trying
and taking our turns to make dinner.
later, of course,
catastrophe. my sudden
collapse; my head
like a jigsaw
someone decided
not to do. all the pieces
laid on a table, but with a teapot on them,
and a mug, a hand
and one corner of a newspaper.
but now
we mutter about, something
like birds in a market
where there’s no bread to fight for. we bumble;
someone reads a book
and someone else looks out the window. below us
the green rumbles sealife. also full
of various birds.
DS Maolalai has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and three times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019)
