soon shivering down. A soldier sits alone
in sodden park. His eyes are fixed, his stare
leads to a girl in Vietnam. Her moan
caught in his throat; released to fractured air.
The same that breathes in sleeping child, in night-
time bumps and grinds, in muffled laughter screams.
Yet in the rain the cracked black lampposts make
a space for hope. Pools of wavering light
illuminating city's tortured dreams.
Rejoice or fear? Soon this place will wake.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
Clarion, Seattle
July 15, 1997