Poems, Edwin Thumboo

September 01, 2019Maria S. Mendes

Evening, Edwin Thumboo

for Chin

i.
Within the storm, a room;
Within the room a special quiet:
Within the softly gradual point
Intersecting selves reflate.
In one corner, a threat of shadows
Mixing with half-remembered remnant
Chants, codicils, footnotes, old infinities.
The air-con’s goblin hum
Shakes the window’s furtive light.
Outside our thunders quarrel.
All is familiar, poised.