Drinking Rain

November in Sydney started with stinking rain,
minor floods and reports of cars getting stuck

having ploughed through deep water too fast.
Like me. During exams I’d sit drench-legged

and steam over the paper, my glasses fogged.
On the last night my rented room became an arena

for a waterfall as the ceiling collapsed
in an imperfect circle one bucket wide.

You wouldn’t call it a leak, more like a rend
but when the rain stopped I could see the stars

and I thought of you, out of the city
in that green leafy suburb

sipping your mother’s soup,
protected from the rain.

Alison Thompson


Alison Thompson lives near Berry, NSW and is a member of the Kitchen Table Poets. She has two chapbooks published: Slow Skipping (PressPress 2008) and In A Day It Changes (PressPress 2018). She won the DPP Byron Bay Writers Festival Poetry prize (2011) and the 2016 Poetry d’Amour Love Poem Contest.

© 2018