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
something.

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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