Anatomy Of A Rainy Day

Its been raining
for a while; life
infested drops
tickling my tongue,
with drainage saliva.
Intermittent
daylight photographing
my wombed floating hair,
in pools of desire.

Thunderclaps rumble
underneath my eyelids;
the rustling noise
of foliage growing red
and green and white.
There is a poem
juggling tomorrow.
Nationality. And other
things. My bed is wet.

Someone must have left
the window open.