the long rumble of percussive runnels, the sluicing of the house
a storm, bass-driven, as we have not seen for so long
one of them real Queensland drenchings that happens around here
but hardly happens now (climate change we shrug)
open palms to the sky think it’ll hold?
dream stasis pulls sleep and wake apart with twin strong arms
opening the curtain to the sound of your shower
I’m just used to living alone