raining only dogs

you say "it's only rain"
& ignore the animals falling like luggage.
outside, on the curb, my umbrella is smashed in
by a mastiff. sky murky & urgent grey.
full of sharks. i see their fins. 
when i was a girl water used to fall in sheets. 
filled in driveway divots to make the puddles
i'd swim in. let me show you how 
to breast stroke in only an inch of water.
often i will sit the pitcher under spigot
& leave the water running. pitcher overflows.
this is where we are. in the sink
next to the dishes. trepassers in purple.
car hoods smashed in. it's only rain, i know this.
but, lately, the rain has had skulls & teeth.
has taken to making a swimming pool
of our alley. i see great koi fish 
in the rush. the dogs swim towards the horizon.
none of us are sure to whom they belong.
maybe once i was a dog who rained down
with such desperation. when there is 
nothing else left to do, the body 
finds its water & wields it. once i floated
in the ocean & felt my skin petaling away like oars.
another time, just in the shower, a black rain cloud
slipped out of my ear. thunder shook even my fingernails.
this is what i get for listening to the radio.
bodies battering all the rooves on my street.
the word "damage" means less to me each year. 
barefoot, i got out into the dampness. storm with
a thousand eyes. i take some of the dogs inside.
i feed them. this is ill-advised. reports say 
if you feed a dog, more & more will come.
i stroke their heads & say, "let them come.
it's only rain." 

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