Pelt

Now rain rattled
the roof of my car
like holy water
on a coffin lid,
holy water and mud
landing with a thud

though as I listened
the uproar
faded to the stoniest
of silences . . . They piled
it on all day
till I gave way

to a contentment
I’d not felt in years,
not since that winter
I’d worn the world
against my skin,
worn it fur side in.