The Flood
The flood never did subside,
each person became an ark.
Only now
the creatures have shrunk,
mixed up
until one species carries
the genetics of all the species.
Fantastical beasts have arisen,
in a thimble of water.
The great flood is a teacup ocean of tears,
but who’s tears?
God has long since dried Her eyes,
The lamb and the lion,
(Her onetime time
emotional support animals),
have become so intermingled
that their parts are unrecognizable.
The leaping waves toss we arks
over the moon and back again,
leaks spring leaks -
the drowning drink.
We are all looking
for a mountaintop somewhere,
so far, only a few have returned
with that long expected news.
The rest of us drift on
still looking for that place
to offload our cargo,
our menagerie of leftover souls.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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