xia yu

all the people in puddles
came down with
out their dialects. we
look at each
other in english.
tears crash everywhere.

– 65 –

‘My room is too small
this must mean it's time
to leave again.’ may rain
can't help but be
simultaneous
descending with its talk

colouring the background in
a million relief lines pointing
down, down. ‘I'm out of here
soon too it's too cold
out here soon.’ may rain
divides a million brief puns

into backroom talk
descending around, around.
‘I'm out of room may I
may I rain soon.’ no pause
in the fall of the
multilingual undress

babbling through its ears: xia yu! xia yu!
rain fall; down with
language

hear the crash everywhere
shaping the silence
of a lover who asks
without moving his mouth:
‘What did you put on your skin?
My tongue's gone numb.’