It starts to rain at midnight.
A spider takes refuge in the corner
by the window. Water is the last thing
We need around here.
I stack plates in the dishwasher
To make room
My visitor at the edge
Of the curtain near the bed
Seems neither moved by the arrival
Of tomorrow nor compelled to spin past
The threshold just to catch
The taillights of a south bound
Day dissolving into the horizon line.