Standing under the drain pipe with your mouth open
so far your jaw aches, hair pushed from your face.
lacquered into a thick gloss. You left your rain boots
in the house. Wanted your feet to feel it too—
the slow soak through canvas shoes, the cool, the wrinkle
of toe tips. All you want is to hover in this moment of okay,
of the dripping, wet grass, the flooded baseball diamond.
Small sliver of summer rain between storm and dry.
Let the cars hide in their driveway canopies and the fat,
slick earthworms pop to the surface of our yards. You’ve got
tree buds in your socks, gutter silt underneath your toenails,
a small toad in your pocket.
Chrissy Martin is a Ph.D. candidate at Oklahoma State University and a recent graduate from the Poetry MFA program at Columbia College Chicago. She also holds a BA in English from The University of Akron with minors in Creative Writing, Women’s Studies, and Popular Literature and Film. She is the Poetry Editor for Arcturus and has previously worked as an editor for Columbia Poetry Review and RHINO Poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Amazon’s Day One, Voicemail Poems, MISTRESS,(b)OINK, and Small Po[r]tions.