The rain memory

The wet needles turn us into shadows,
As the causality of gravity
Gives birth to the earthquake
Of our fantasy.

Two puppets under the burning 
clouds,
The slippery scalpel dissecting her 
fabric
– like tearing electricity without 
science,
The threads of time,
The dance of knives – 
A hollow organ playing behind…
… the waves of silence.

The cotton table witnesses
The death of Newton at
The hands of her sharp DNA, as the 
parable of 
Money and pollution reveal tales
Of joy and purification.