It is raining. I am inside

It is raining. I am inside,
In the external room,
That projects over the villa.
It is the sun room, it has mechanical
Fiber shades all around each self-opening
Window, forming a rectangular
Space. Four super-colored: blue,
Orange, yellow, yellow-down-toned,
Paper lanterns, they hang from the
Ceiling. The shades, I closed them all
With the touch of my fingers
On the control pad, and slept
Waking, thinking it must be 4, afternoon.
I touched the pad at seven this morning,
And it was only nine thirty.
Now I sit on a little swivel chair,
It glows with the paper lanterns,
And, I add, the floor lights just inside
From the sun room. I feel four o’clock.

I know about the atrocities in Mosul.
And, the Yazidi genocide. Nothing
Happens, that I don’t let be known
To me. I miss nothing. I am
Obsessively thorough, to the point
Of pain. It gets harder
Each year.


by Anatol Cordua © 2017