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.