three o’clock above Bandung
and it rains
driving out ghosts –
motorbike men
in plastic-sheet raincoats
spectres unfurling
wet’s breath dissolving
valley and peak
in day’s new weight
we are lighter, each
drop a drawing down
and release
drains spill
fill with loss, sorrow, anger
net careless remarks
draw pesticides, suicides
plastic and poverty
sends them liquid-racing
to city
while for a moment
in the mountains we
are free