the drop

my roof had sprung
a leak, dark droplets dripped
down onto me and
my bed. I had
stayed up all night and
was struggling
to sleep with this damp
and dripping
situation happening. so
I called the super, spread
some plastic down next
to and on top of me, and
passed out. hours later I
half-woke to the sound
of footsteps on the roof,
and hoped that someone was doing

the other day it was raining
hardcore, the kind of rain
that makes me fear
a wettening. I woke up
and thought I felt
a single drop
plummet from the ceiling
to hit me right
in the hip.

but when I looked
at the plaster and
fake beams, dim in the gloom
of a grey rainy day,
I saw no tell-tale wetness.
no subsequent drips
made their presence known.
was I dreaming? did I
hallucinate that one
spot of water, feeling
something that wasn’t
there? (I put nothing past
my poor addled brain.)
or was it a last gasp
of runaway moisture?

it hasn’t happened since,
despite monsoon-like
downpourings. so I guess
I’ll never know.

Published by

R. Brookes McKenzie

what fresh hell is this

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