The Flood Poem by Albert Ahearn

The Flood



Inundating, binging,
the muddy, bulimic river
gorged the flood plain, consuming
everything that wasn’t nailed down:
tree limbs, leaves, bleating sheep, chicken coups,
plastic grocery bags, inner tubes,
cesspit contents, only to vomit
it back up to its torrential torrent surface.
Helpless victims stand the high ground
with a wing and prayer their homes
be spared the wrath of God
knowing only too well that the laws
of nature…
have no favorites.

Saturday, July 4, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: hope
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