my rescue dog barks at the front door
one of us opens it
on the other side a tall young man in efficient trousers 
and a crisp polo shirt emblazoned by lightning bolt logo 
his stormed umber eyes belong to Oceania






without my asking
he slides out of his crocs as he would at home
tucks a ladder into his side
and swerves across the entry like an expert footballer
he splits the legs and steps up two rungs
letting his height do the reaching  
smoke alarm screeches out in beeps






until new battery installed to return the silence
I take advantage of the moment and ask a favour
hoping his height might open the kitchen window
swollen closed by torrential rain
one of his arms lifts it with ease
he leaves saying have a good day aunty
the scent of soil and steaming cement remain