The Taste of Rain

Just before or after, or during the deluge?

The oceans of my childhood puddles,
green lightning flashes the grottoes hidden,
the downpour, the clockwork rivulets,
her face and mine behind the drizzle's ribbons.

Rain, indeed, is every woman. Every woman wettens.

You see it right --- "wettens,"
the textured taste, the double "t"
as nipple has two "ps," two hills and valley in between

the taste of rain is like submergence