Privacy of Rain

by Helen Dunmore

Rain. A plump splash
On tense, bare skin.
Rain. All the May leaves
Run upward, shaking.

Rain. A first touch
At the nape of the neck.
Sharp drops kick the dust, white
Downpours, shudder
Like curtains, rinsing
Tight hairdos to innocence

I love the privacy of rain.
The way it makes things happen
On verandahs, under canopies
Or in the shelter of trees
As a door slams and a girl runs out
Into the black-wet leaves.

By the brick wall an iris
Sucks up the rain
Like intricate food, its tongue
Sherbetty, furred.

Rain. All the May leaves
Run upward, shaking
On the street bud-silt
Covers the windscreens.


Swap May for June and you have an appropriate poem for a wild, wet and windy day...