Austin Price, Editor in Chief
The rain patters on the tin roof
Split, splatter, split, splatter
Continuous pounding of cool water
Onto old, rickety metal
This metal has formed a rust
A visual of the continuous abuse
What once was pure
Is now cursed
Never ending wallop of wretched water
Taking a clean slate
And tarnishing it
One would argue that the roof deserves it
The roof is a shield
An impenetrable, fixed structure
Honored by time
The patterns may change
But the roof stays the same
The wind blows and the fires glow
But the roof seems sturdy
But seeming is often not sincere
Seeming is a deceptive ingredient
Underneath that roof
There is rot
There is pain
There is death
The continuous molestation of the rain onto the roof
Breaks it
From the inside
Out
Some things never change
Like the endless onslaught of the rain
But nothing gold can remain
And nothing refined can deny the wickedness of pain
The roof has withheld more than her fair share
Fires, tornados, blizzards, hurricanes
Temporary calamities are easy to withstand
But consistent cruelty is the roof’s demise
The pouring rain is constant
It’s inflection is consistent
There’s no variation in the rhythm
And no end in sight
Rain is a part of life
But when all we have is rain
We have no time to heal
The roof begs for a reprieve
For the sun to come out
And to dry her skin
For the metal to be warmed
And the water to be dried
Unfortunately, a break in the rain is rare
And a rarity becomes a fantasy
Despite the rust spores
And creaking structure
The roof’s groans are unheard
And no change is made
Warning signs are given
Premonitions are shown
And yet nothing changes
Until the roof falls in
And the home is destroyed