“Downpour” By Z. D. Dicks




The class was over     three men remained
chewing words and rummaging 
through syntax     I sat youngest of the three
as they spoke of gratitude     flooding faces

I’ve made it to seventy     everything else is a bonus
I digested these words     chopped sausage 
and tomato sauce     ate them his feather lite words 
soaking heavy like lead rain     vision blurry 

Like glasses broken     left arm tight and sluggish
as if sodden on one side     wet chill with tingles of death
I write because I have to     not to get published
drenched by his first words     everything else 

Is a bonus     the slow drip into a half filled tank
that patter wouldn’t fill my years     my land 
was cracked and broken     thirty five years he’s 
drenched by a day     and I’m a puddle in sun


About the Author: Z. D. Dicks is the author of Malcontent (Black Eye Publishing) described as ‘Uncompromising, sometimes controversial, but always entertaining’ by Clive Oseman and ‘Evocative, atmospheric, breathing new life into the everyday’ by Nicola Harrison. Z. Dicks is the CEO of Gloucestershire Poetry Society and Gloucester Poetry Festival. His work has been accepted by Ink, Sweat and Tears, Three Drops from a Cauldron and Fresh Air Poetry. He frequently reads at poetry events throughout the UK.


Image Credit: Louis-Antoine Froissart “A Flood in Lyon” (1856) Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program.

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