Deluge
It’s been raining for 24 hours,
so long the water has won
its battle over caulk
and now my cat is mesmerized
by the drops and streams
running down the bedroom wall.
I hurry to save photos
I’ve stuck up with Blu-Tack:
the only photo of my father;
my grandmother, young and coiffed;
me as a baby
against a portrait studio backdrop.
As the water drips and pools,
my body remembers a night in the van
when hours of rain exposed
a slow leak in the ceiling,
right above my cot.
There was nowhere else to lie
in those 32 square feet.
On this night I wad up a towel
at the base of the wall,
send a text to the landlord,
try to ignore the dripping.
It takes a long time
for sleep to come.
/ / /
13 May 2025
Charlottesville VA