By Ken Poyner
The water looks lazy, a calm
Companion that might forever
Sleep without snoring – but houses
Near the shore are built on stilts.
Sure sign: there are no substantial trees
Within thirty yards of the bank,
Solid vegetation taking hold
Only where the land starts its rise,
Aspiring hill-ward. There is a secret
Here you have to know. Rain
In the mountains maps where it can hide.
You have to think like the ridge-line:
It is not mindful of you.
And then we all laugh as grandpa
Comes from the guest room
And says all he has packed
Are left socks. The lights flicker
And a whisper of thunder moves
Like a freed house cat along the slanting trees.
Rain understands what it rightfully owns.
Ken’s collections of short fiction, Constant Animals and Avenging Cartography, and his latest collections of speculative poetry, Victims of a Failed Civics and The Book of Robot, can be obtained from Barking Moose Press, as well as Amazon and most on-line book outlets. This summer he will be assisting his wife as she tries to reset her own world raw powerlifting records, as well as trying to find a publisher for his Gravity’s Children, a collection of SF/speculative poetry.