Arroyo

The rain has fallen down for twenty hours
from a dead sky of slate and granite hews,
dampening the walls of urban towers.

Cobbled streets the colour of an old bruise,
tyres rattle over pothole dark drains,
counterpoint to some distant splashing shoes.

The day cast in monochromatic stains
as water forms itself into a lake
that eddies into inner city lanes.

A passing car creates a trash-spume wake
of leaves, crisp packets, cartons and sad hope
cascading from the daily give and take.

Inside the office block a girl finds soap,
then washes off the filth of wet with wet
and wonders how the homeless people cope.

It looks as though this dismal weather’s set
to last for days and soak into their bones,
how saturated can an old coat get?

Beside the tarn the flow overturns stones,
masking the sodden cardboard box of groans.

 

Inspired By: photograph by Richard Nixon (c) Rich Pictures

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