Colony

Playing possum during a July night rain,

I’d slip from covers and unlatch

a resinous bathroom-door,

step inside the chamber to the window

like a chapel lancet, prop my chin

on the sill. Tires hissed on asphalt.

A creek breeze conjured petrichor, potato earth. 

Tongue to screen, that metallic whistle taste

coated every surface in Hazelwood.