Rivers Jumps Our Banks

Households unhitch, clapperboard hulls creaking - the sound of storm-lashed rigging, as washing lines and telephone wires twist netting loosening foundations. Where we once believed roots gripped bedrock, planks bob in the swell, chests and their drawers billow and fill. Bed-springs gape, cupboards turn inside out, what surfaces is the face-up exposure of our everyday innards. Even as mailboxes are torn away, we refuse to believe that a river and some wind could move our lives so a far afield, or that this world was really in fact, just this shipwreck on a shore that is always moving. What we once thought of as an address, has turned out to be only a buoy on an ever-moving wave.