The sky opened up just as I crossed the street

The sky opened up just as I crossed the street,

now the grey cotton is stuck to my skin.

Two gallons of milk and the drag of my feet,

this is the way that the evening begins.

Three flights of stairs feel like climbing a cliff,

with water that's pooled in the toes of my shoes.

My joints are all heavy and waterlogged stiff,

carrying weight that I didn't choose.

I drop the plastic bags on the kitchen floor,

and lean my wet head against the wood of the door.