Kay required me to be still
hard as it was when I was little
be still and listen when it rained
and hear it in the trees,
bending the leaves,
darting off the cars.
Making a soft splat on the sidewalk
And sussurance in the grass.
Not just the ordinance of thunder
but the tremors in the distance
The murmur of the high wind.
The sounds were a tent
The sky the proscenium
My head on her lap.
I bought a home by a little creek
languid most days
but storms made it drunk
it filled and toppled it banks
stumbling, raging into the house
breaking furniture, loss
and scars of mold
After each storm became an uncertainty,
rain a neuroses
Kay died as I was selling the house
before we could move on
Now I lay in bed and listen to drops on the roof
and try to remember