Concert Hall In The Shape Of A Human Body

I can hear
the colony of names rousted
from echoes in a hive
of raindrops. Black
coruscating air torn
shining and machined
by volume. The ear persists
for its audience of slicktongue
leaves, learns to appreciate
the glissando, conduct
and enjoin. Cloudline
darkly mute. Then
that single crash that opens
the sky, closes, and smiles again
the thousand scintillating mouths
that glitch and abrade as if teething
bonewhite on palmed light-
motifs. Streetlights carve a hollow
in the night from which bricked walls
emerge. Canons of Ourobouros
delta treads roll past,
fording intersections
filled with shortlived rivers.
All this for hours and then
the reprise: sparse percussion
of footfalls on asphalt
and the sills that forgive
ingress to a single drop
before the flood's reign invades.