Shelter • Dan Schillinger

“Thunderstorm,” she said.
“Where I am…”
I said, “I’m seeing the same thing.”
“Good,” she said, and hung up.

The bulbs browned.
The computer howled,
was unplugged.
In the bedroom I

Unmade the bed, myself
(blinds raised). Outside,
drains choked and stopped.
Inside, the walls hummed.