They lay somnolent

Under a single sheet

For most of the day

Listening to the rain

Swirl off the tin roof,

Hearing thunder

On its way to sea.


His lover wants to know

About his soul

But he rolls to one side,

Wordless, frightened.

Encouraged, feeling smooth.


When again thunder quakes,

He mumbles into her neck,

“that was its voice,”

they form a shell.