When Rain Speaks of War - Virgil Suarez

it sounds like the hiss of a viper,
green-brown in underbrush
by the lichen-riddled rocks,

a rumble in the distance, avalanche
of numbing snow, a chatter
of cicadas, hail stitching corrugated

tin above an abandoned shed,
a child picks up clumps of dirt,
an empty snail shell, he puts it

to his ear and the gallop of death’s
horses storming over cliffs lulls
him to sleep. Nobody’s child,

belly swollen with hunger, flies
buzzing about his face, trying
to whisper in which direction

to turn to catch the last glimpse
of this darkening, purpled sky.
How the world surrenders to rain.

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Virgil Suarez (born 1962) Cuba (lives in USA)
Source: Iota No 61 - 2003 [Poetry Magazines]