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.
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