THE BALLAD OF THE LITTLE BOY LOST- LINES WRITTEN UNDER MIGRAINE

It rained and it rained and it rained
After years of my long relationship with it anyhow
My soul had been so parched that its surface curled black
Like a dried tongue and exposed red bony gums of erosion
But now when the world had came to document its supposedly dry misery
It had apparently grown bored of being a desert
And decided to turn itself into a long shallow lick of lake
Land that once danced dry heaving with heat waves
Now sung with the deadly whine of mosquitoes
It grew small tidal waves and an infestation of frogs
Anything not big or strong enough to hold its head above the dirty water
Took in a lungful of liquid and died, ballooned and stinking
In the ditches and ravines where the corpse of the little boy lost floats
Many chickens and a odd small goat, surprised by so much unaccustomed filth
Ran away in apathy and disgust
Downstream from the brothels
The biblically dead earth of a heart that could not love anyone
Sprung green with a plague of luscious weeds
All day, day after day the gray clouds of unreason gathered force
With such gravity that they threatened to oppress the sun
Insects tumbled out of the sky, with wings crackling and prickly legs
The beetles shrilled, Dracula fanged and yellow green
The wind picked up and tossed the leaves of the mango tree to shreds
And there blew also her hair as she lay on the wind swept beach
Thinking of god only knows what
The dogs hid their ears under their paws and looked anxious
The crows amassed in their ramshackle nest
And shat piles of reeking white
And the wild birds fell silent
She laughed out loud , this “sweet child in time”
At this outrageous rhapsody
The clouds menaced and massed
Underneath lain in tomb of concrete solid earth
Sinking back into the silence of the mud
Was the little boy lost.