When you deafen rain becomes the walls of orchestra tumbling in that uncanny way of bamboo and deforestation brass and woodwind with a thousand plectrum eyes in the octopoid tangle reaching for prayers with sparred and upthrust arms as if in a lightning season boats shed unwanted petal skins bared, swayed sank or mired but between the secrets of an eyelid’s flicker stillness – an inadvertent claw a few inviolate tears never exactly seeing
