the rat-a-tat-tat branch against the glass outside the window the wind blows the clawing and scraping the knocking his mouth gaping clocking the lighted numbers beside his bed the pulsing and thunder inside his head sweat running along his brow belly churning like a mama cow heart pounding like a hammer the sounding and clamor of her calls night precipitously falls like a guillotine it throws and turns him as a washing machine outside the rat-a-tat-tat like nails on the chalkboard she's the scratch