RAIN by Don Paterson

June 24, 2013

If you do nothing else this September please buy Don Patersons new book RAIN. It is so amazingly good! Here is the poem RAIN.

by Don Paterson

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one long thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold
on a rain-dark gutter, running gold
with the neon of a drugstore sign,
and Id read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rains own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters.