thisistheseasonofrain

This is the season of rain

This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain.

It slithers along the windowsill trying to get in.
It seeps into the soles of my shoes trying to drown me.
It pounds down upon my head coming through the leak in the roof.
Its drenched claws creep up the back stairs.

This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain.

I have been waiting here by the window
watching the floodwaters rise slowly, longing for the dam to break.
I wade out to meet the water.
It is not warm and inviting like a lover’s kiss or sex or baptism.
It is a cold sweat.
Too late, I realize I will not be swept away.

This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain.

Like a Victorian tragedy, rocks sewn into the hem of my gown,
I sink.

This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain. This is the season of rain.