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
just before the deluge
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,
potted plants, pants, and porta potties.

Lots never made it back to yesterday
some may turn up tomorrow
but when they surface
lots of things  will smell bad
and just as clogged and cracked
as we will be.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace