Newspaper Rain

the newspaper and rain arrived together today, 
one regular as always, the other unpredictable as ever  

“14 yr old dies after scuffle with two brothers” 

“man bludgeons wife, strangles child, kills self” 

–headlines that draw my eyes in first

though the articles, I choose not to read:  

what will one more act of violence be
but another prick to our collective conscience, 
another snag in the proud-flying flag, 
one more fester in the city’s flesh 
that for all their exploding frequency 
it will get sicker before it dies? 

instead, 

I read about the arguments 
between the central and state governments;
the PM skipped the president’s Iftar 
but will be going for talks to Mozambique. 
Maybe I will only realise the importance 
of these events in the future. 
so I plough through an editorial on the Brexit 
understanding about half 
and one on the latest cure for cancer 

in the obituaries,
a young soldier is remembered 

alongside a ninety year old man: 

the former for his service in the Kargil war, 
the latter by grandchildren 

newspapers 

like readers, 
are selective 
unlike rain, till it falls 
on roofs of plastic or of brick or 
under open sky.