The rains have returned
and I forgot
how loud
it attacks,
like marbles shaking
in a tin can.
Underneath it
we try to sleep
wondering why
no one in this wet land
builds gardens on their roofs
to swallow
the falling ocean,
turn it upside down
into proud lineups of snow peas
and artichokes
and at night
a blanket of earth above us
to hush
the clamour.
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