Colombo Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

The old bougainvillea is tired, it’s been
up all night trying to grab some dew

falling from the sky. Too tired
to lift its branches up to sway to the beat

of the wind blowing hot jeering
at the bougainvilleas’

inability to move. Last night’s dew
disappeared the moment it

touched the air. Leaves groan
in dismay but stand back and wait wishing

the sky would open up the umbrella
of white clouds early today.

Sunshine’s all around. My skin melts like
ice cream

slithering down my neck and arms
chocolate brown tasting salty.

The garden seat
under the shady mango tree is no respite.

The sun’s long fingernails
pierce through leaves to tap on my head

and shoulders. The grass gave up
last week, changing colour from green

to ugly brown, crisp to the touch like pencil
shavings while the earth cracks open

to let in some air. It’s boiling
inside like a kettle ready to be poured out

for tea, a volcano churning
to spew out. Rivers run dry pushing sand

up to the top. Fish huddle behind rocks
too hot for comfort

while I move indoors to sweat it out under
a swirling fan and wonder when

the madness will end. Dust flies like
butterflies around town but no

one’s amused. There’s no time for
joy. The day has just begun.