At night
The rain hit the roof
Like a school of pointed fingers
The morning after
I walked out on the balcony
The sun was near complete
& every roof top
Was unfurling sheets of white smoke
I ran to my mother
She didn’t understand my cry
Was she blind
Every house was on fire
& the sky stealing their colour
She didn’t laugh but I could hear
The tickle in her voice
It wasn’t fire she explained
But sun melting dew into steam
& that arch in the sky
Was called a rainbow
How can a bow shoot colour
I hid in my mother’s arms all morning
Couldn’t have been older than seven
This afternoon your mother sent me out for pickles & cream
No strange request for a woman expecting
Coming back home
The light hitting an exhaust fume
Reminded me of my mother’s voice
With those eyes and that smile
The smell of her love made me cry
And so grateful to be alive