Waterlogged

the rope ladder was frayed,

waxy ends waning,

dancing, in summer storm song.

she climbed up, treehouse toes pushing

against sky storm drain shuffling, and she

settled

blurry eyes marveling

at how the time shrunk the wood.

rain dripped through the roof

so she pulled her legs under

her shirt and shivered, her heart

beating honest horse steps

on the rest of her body. the thunder

within her made her shake

and shake

and shake

and it wasn’t just because of the cold

anymore. months passed before she

took her phone out of her rain

coated pocket and whispered “i love you”

to the girl’s voicemail

and the humid air.

the colorful sun broke

through the clouds.