Lewis LaCook – Poetics

Lewis LaCook


Finally rain can gooseflesh pavement
and hang like fat crystal bats from
the railing, and

morning finally unrolls like gauze
over the eyes.  Our cat hunches down
before the sliding glass doors of our
live-in porch, saucer-stared and shocking;

every drop is a current she absorbs.
I’m blind in the melee, brimming with only
this sound: rain pricking pavement,

fingers shuffling keys.

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