Rain
A squirrel got into the apartment,
it picked a lock with a dry thorn.
The smell of dank fur clung.
We carried small talk above our heads.
Nothing put away but dangles.
Denim droops, snagging
the arms of rumpled shadows,
fusty jeans gander and loll.
Calico and cotton is rescued
the soggy separated
from the mildewed.
Soon front steps will be scoured,
tails and collars made to flap
While medium-sized back-yard critters
flounce and fluff.
If a blotting wind returns,
the squirrel will bail with a flick of its tail
We will wash bathtubs
for only water washes rain away.
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