Flood

Households unhitch, hulls creaking - the sound of storm-lashed rigging as foundations founder. Where we once believed roots gripped bedrock, boards bob in the swell. Bed-springs gape. A chest-of-drawers turns inside out, the face-up exposure of our everyday innards. Even as mail-boxes are torn away, we refuse to believe that a river and some wind could move our lives to a far field, or that this world were really in fact, just this shipwreck of what we thought of as an address.