This poem came at midnight some months ago. The memory of monsoons. The school compound flooded the next day. Wearing gumboots that came up to your knees. Even with socks on, the plastic got to your skin, tangled in the hair on your legs and you walked in water sloshing feeling little jolts like electricity from the plastic pulling at the hair which pulled back. That memory too. The sheer scale of rain. The sheer smell of it on the cement streets, in the old trees, the earth at the side of the street, the gutters running running, and afterwards too, the sea, even though it was grey, it felt like the whole world lived in the water, the waves were such, the white edges of them was such, the sheer scale of the sea too. the view from the window, of the other balcony. the scale of memory. that too.
Read the poem here