rockets

the roof heats up; all night long, we listened to the song of ice blocks freed from each other, gathering speed as they slide along the slots between tiles, sounding like large claws scraping across hollow scales, a hitch of breath as they launch over the gutter, an impact. sometimes, they shatter like a dropped pot on the brickwork; others, it's a dull thud into melted snow.

in the morning, the front step is littered with unmelted remnants; i listen for the ominous crack of another projectile being sloughed by the house before i step out from under the eaves. when i clear the threshold without getting pelted, i look back at the roof.

it's already dry.

21 January 2018 16:07