After the Flood

After the flood
cats and cars slipped under the long night,
only to drift backward
as if yesterday still pulled them in.

Old Charley Winslow died
before the flood,
but when the river threw itself
over the dike
he was seen to float out of a lower window.

Lots are gone.
Welcome mats and whistle pigs,
sheds and shingles,
plastic peddle carts.

Lots never made it back to yesterday.
Lots of underwater things.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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