Early Rain

At some point tonight this early rain
will swell and slip its ribbons
underneath our tent – it will pool,
pull the polyurethane fly
against the nylon shell
which will fall upon our bodies
and make of us one
slithering skin we’ll shed
in the morning, split
then stuff into the hollow
wells of backpacks – the splash,
squelch of each footfall
from camp to lunch, a gray lick
under bloated oatmeal clouds
where we will argue over our mess
and the things we carry through it,
and will be no drier. But for now,
we lie silently beneath the beautiful
rhythm the sky is tapping
on the other side of ourselves.






First published in SubTerrain #56.

Read more poems from The Other Side of Ourselves.