ID

-I woke this morning to a cascade of pronouns, personal and impersonal, falling against the window. It doesn’t usually rain this time of year, and least of all in “I’s” “me’s” “she’s” “her’s” and “one’s” but upon rousing to the syllabic tapping at my window and looking out into the darkened sky and its heavy vowels, I could not doubt the downpour. It is usually more morose and heavier, cascading the amorphous morphemes which affect the soul. But it was light today. Perhaps a sign of the divine imparting more than emotion. Identity also. In the puddles beneath the window, the swirling pronouns all dissolved and turned into a single “u” which swirled further and for a moment, before vanishing, looked like a “y”.