Katy Didn't

in the sweetness of Summer
there were dark crisp cherries
with taut skins bursting with juice
there were nectarines tart
with a hint of the changing of the season
but all the more intoxicating for it
and when the apples would arrive
you knew it was almost over

the turn came in the night
cool and dry and with it
dreams of magnetism and static
aurorae and lightning
trading places with poles reversing
and the face we saw
had a nose like an acorn
more like a beak
and eyebrows that
via some triune indirect
interspecies transgenetic transference
had caused the squirrels
to have rat tails
and his cheeks had been scribed and furrowed
like the surface of the dry ground that had seen
flash runoffs and much less
but it was important now
to make do with less
katy did not

sound of rain

I remember that time on the front porch in August

with the sound of rain cleaning the night sky

there was a toy trampoline with a giant innertube

by the light of the streetlamps golden orange

and as the humidity finally traded with its alter ego

we played children shushing in the dark
to hear

the resonance that pervades collected vessels

like a seashell that pulls in the song of the ocean

for there was such a thing at one time