Swept Away

Households unhitch so readily. We watch incredulous as they float off, hulls creaking, rafters cracking like wind-lashed rigging. Where we once believed roots gripped bedrock now shiftless boards bob in the swell. Domesticity tumbles out. Bed springs gape, a chest-of-drawers turns, inside out. The everyday innards of a dwelling, face up, barely floating: a sure sign of those about to drown.