You’re slipping through this grey world,
as an eel might glide through kelp,
sinuous, friction-free. You’re moving,
I am still. Still here, still waiting.
Rain beads the window. I’ve no view,
only the misted glass, the empty
platform. I wonder where you are.
You move towards me, cutting
a path through nameless towns.
The world mutates around you –
fleeting images – an empty trampoline,
a washing line, a field of flowers –
freighted with meaning, vanished
in a moment. Me, I’m still.
My coffee’s steaming, softening
a world of plastic seats, bright, bitter orange,
scuffed grey floor, and sugar sachets,
split and spilling baby diamonds
across the table top. It’s raining,
and I’m sheltering and wondering.
You’re movement. A cadenza.
I’m a pause.
I’m the host at dVerse tonight. I’m asking you to have a conversation with a poem, write a response to a poem that has touched you in some way. This is my response to Laura Bloomsbury’s poem In The Rain . I loved the sense of movement in this poem, and the unresolved anticipation. I always enjoy Laura’s use of enjambment. I actually hadn’t realised until I went back to the original that I had mirrored the ending so effectively.
There are lots more poets and poems to view at dVerse. Check it out. Have your own conversation with a poem.