The Rainwalkers Poem by Denise Levertov

The Rainwalkers

Rating: 2.7


An old man whose black face
shines golden-brown as wet pebbles
under the streetlamp, is walking two mongrel dogs of dis-
proportionate size, in the rain,
in the relaxed early-evening avenue.

The small sleek one wants to stop,
docile to the imploring soul of the trashbasket,
but the young tall curly one
wants to walk on; the glistening sidewalkentices him to arcane happenings.

Increasing rain. The old bareheaded man
smiles and grumbles to himself.
The lights change: the avenue's
endless nave echoes notes of
liturgical red. He drifts

between his dogs' desires.
The three of them are enveloped -
turning now to go crosstown - in their
sense of each other, of pleasure,
of weather, of corners,
of leisurely tensions between them
and private silence.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
JJ the idiot 21 October 2019

Why can't I just understand what this means.

3 1 Reply
val Rogers 15 September 2015

Potent imagery. That counts for slot.

0 1 Reply
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