G A L V A N I Z E D

G A L V A N I Z E D

When I awakened, the
silence was deafening; it
was so quiet, I couldn’t
make out a single sound.

No electrical humming,
no other breath, no
sense of stirring, no
lapping wave, shorebound.

There was nothing,
in something —
merely the absence.
Of any thing.

Except the beating
of my heart, exhaling
and inhaling
blood.

Then, the softest
patter, then more —
rain, coming down on
the galvanized roof.

This overhangs my
house, as if a kind of
sound gatherer, for
what weather brings.

And that sound,
reminded me of you,
being here, and I
wondered now: where

is she, that lover
of so many things
close to me, that
brings my heart

to a beat, that matches
the rhythm of the
rain, coming down
now, pre Dawn.

tsg | decatur island
2.11.07 3.45am

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