Deluge

26 01 2009
Hong Kong was an overripe peach –
for a week, suspended and bursting
in a cloud of molasses.

Evening settled.
Then,
as if in revelation

the city grew rivers,
sky and sea reversed
and it stormed hallelujahs
all on my upturned face.

Ruined my dress and
dirtied my white feet
in wet street grime,
but washed me clean, inside.

That night, I was holy
in the energy of the reborn city.

I wandered over turbulent waters

from Kowloon to Central –
let the rain touch me,
open, and carry me –
Sanctified lady of the island.
Ghost of the water.

Free as a child.


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