You don't know they're like muzzles, these sleek silken tassels
Which fly like it's their freedom breathing, a gifted disaster.
Let them fall.
When the water comes up over the linoleum--you wanted
Water to fall, tension to break humidity's plan to stifle us
But as soon as you feel the cool, you crumble. Those feet--
You were raised on this clay, born from it, stand on it.
Thought your knees would never drop this fast to the flood.
There are only islands, only rough pedestals cover in dust
From the feet who have scuffed over them, watching water
Take to each low place and then to the high.
Let them fall.
You didn't know what flits away, already speaking in tatters
How many times they've given us such a gift, a disaster.
This is being posted for Poets United Poetry Pantry #402 and The Sunday Muse The Muse #4. This really didn't go where I was thinking it would--I love the colors of the image above and didn't really think it would be the tiger...or the storm...that crept out. :) Hope you have a great week and thanks for reading!
Chrissa
This makes me think of the flooding going on in eastern Canada right now. So well done. Nice to see you at Poets United.
ReplyDeleteI've never really been in a flood, but this sounds right....
ReplyDeleteFascinating images here really. An evocative poem.
ReplyDeleteI read this a few times and was fascinated each time by something different as the image and lines spoke such amazing things.
ReplyDeleteDonna@LivingFromHappiness
"Gifted disaster" is something to think about.
ReplyDeleteThis said a lot to me, as our town suffered serious flooding just over a year ago, and has still not fully recovered. I was not personally affected, but friend who was is beginning to find the gift in the disaster.
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ReplyDeleteZQ
Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteLots of ways to interpret your words, both literally and figuratively. Well done.
ReplyDeleteAn absolutely brilliant write "C"! It is a new favorite of yours for me!
ReplyDeleteI really like this! Something about the construction of it, the occasional repetitions or variations on the same thought, make it like a dance, one that's unfamiliar but insistent. I felt swept up.
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