Rainxiety

A Poem by Swagato Saha

A take on the modern subject's anxiety-riddled relation to the rain ("Rainxiety") - Does the naked hand remember rain?

There was a gasp of panic in the streets-
As vapour ghosts hailed from a dead-skin sky,
To melt away the well-worn concrete,
And blur the signal's spying eye.

Now lost count of the crosses and turns,
A flustered red; it regards the rain,
Grand buses then huddle in tense sojourn,
What nameless forms tread its terrain?

The steamy glass warps their anxious gazes,
In fraction spaces, confused cars collide;
As if to save the square in midst,
For no body and to no end in sight...

Shoes slip to shadows shaken by horns,
And bump umbrellas, to a crowd of slurs,
Else struggle with strands of rainy-day-skins;
Calling out to the cloudless stars...

(While worlds of silent shades condense!
'Cross the asphalt pools in lawless blends!
Such the heedless brush of winds did leave,
Not a trace of earthly divide.)

By the timely wake of refreshed screens,
And piling layers of skins of skins,
To the cultured scorn of nerves within,
...Does the naked hand remember rain?