A lifetime of rain

has left our skins wet,

our clothes disintegrating

when we undress, if

we bother to undress

or simply fall into our beds

sleep claiming us

before our bodies still.

​

Someday the sun

might rise

and our skins will dry,

shrinking us down

to a size more manageable

than the bloated beings

we have become

simply by living as we live,

all the better

for the world to drown us

when the rains come again,

 

as they will.

as they always do,

the ending of everything

the only guarantee worth believing.