The End Of The West

Head Flood

Look - there you go! You're swirling in the floodwaters

Close to the cell phone I left on top

Of my mailbox. Water is gushing out of its mouthpiece,

Screaming down the cul-de-sac, ripping up the

Asphalt. I should never have answered,

Especially never have called. All I have done for the past two days

Is sit in my room with the lights off

And the fan on. Maybe I can go outside

With rolls of medical tape and gauze, maybe

I can fix it myself. The water's creeping into my front lawn now.

It's seeping under my front door, warping

The floorboards, throwing the piano out of tune-

I should never have gone outside in the first place.

The gauze keeps soaking through, only now the water

Is neon red. I don't believe in God, but this is enough to force me

To turn to the sky. The water keeps rising like a war

On its way to a peace protest. There is no forest now,

No buildings either (my god - the levees I put up

Must have burst) just water, a lake, I am in a river,

Clinging to my bedroom window, pulling myself inside.