Grass tickles against the low kitchen window
Trying to raise a wink in that unblinking eye;
Alert for danger like a Russian woman,
Cat fur bristles against the coming storm.
That gray weight of clouds heavy as my emotion
Hard slow relentless as the push of wind:
Can you imagine now
If you touch me?
What peals shudder through the air between us
Low and tingling like the pelt of dull drops
Or the distant beat of pagan drums
That call you near, invite to the fray
Always faster now, now always harder
Coming on and on without repeal:
The promise of a shocking smother of sparks
In a shared pool of carnal rain.
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