05-08-2013, 11:17 AM
Your rivulets redecorated,
trickling from the tub,
inviting lichen to the kitchen,
sowing mold along the flowered
moulding in the halls.
We returned to waterfalls
where I remembered stairs,
and even when the neighbors came
to fish you from the brimming bath
the flood would not subside.
So Mother flung the windows wide
and mopped until she cried.
Like ghosts appearing in the dusk
toadstools sprouted on the lawn,
and evening throbbed with frogsong.
All night I dreamed I chased your long
footsteps through dark marshes,
swamp vines dragging at my legs.
But as I slept, sawgrass crept
between decaying floorboards.
I woke again to read your words
to me. I’d kept them dry.
Although the tang of rotting timber
spiced our morning meals for months,
we held our ground like squatters.
I shelved you well above the water
when the swamp began to rise
and traded in my crocs for waders.
The men who tried to drain the mire,
alligators mangled.
By autumn, mangroves grew too tangled
for us to cut a path,
so we abandoned the land to the herons
and scattered you among the cattails
that consumed your wreckage.
Original
As I slept, your rivulets redecorated.
Trickling from the tub,
they invited lichen to the kitchen,
replaced our flowered wallpaper with moss.
I awoke to waterfalls
where I remembered stairs.
After they fished you from the brimming bath,
Mother flung the house open and mopped
until evening throbbed with frogsong.
Still the flood would not subside.
For months our meals were spiced
with the tang of rotting timber.
But we clung on,
shelved you well above the water line
and traded in our thongs for waders.
Men arrived to try to drain the mire,
though alligators made the work impossible.
Eventually, the mangrove grew
too tangled to cut a path.
In Autumn, the last of the walls falling away,
we abandoned the land to the herons,
scattering you among the cattails
that consumed the wreckage.
trickling from the tub,
inviting lichen to the kitchen,
sowing mold along the flowered
moulding in the halls.
We returned to waterfalls
where I remembered stairs,
and even when the neighbors came
to fish you from the brimming bath
the flood would not subside.
So Mother flung the windows wide
and mopped until she cried.
Like ghosts appearing in the dusk
toadstools sprouted on the lawn,
and evening throbbed with frogsong.
All night I dreamed I chased your long
footsteps through dark marshes,
swamp vines dragging at my legs.
But as I slept, sawgrass crept
between decaying floorboards.
I woke again to read your words
to me. I’d kept them dry.
Although the tang of rotting timber
spiced our morning meals for months,
we held our ground like squatters.
I shelved you well above the water
when the swamp began to rise
and traded in my crocs for waders.
The men who tried to drain the mire,
alligators mangled.
By autumn, mangroves grew too tangled
for us to cut a path,
so we abandoned the land to the herons
and scattered you among the cattails
that consumed your wreckage.
Original
As I slept, your rivulets redecorated.
Trickling from the tub,
they invited lichen to the kitchen,
replaced our flowered wallpaper with moss.
I awoke to waterfalls
where I remembered stairs.
After they fished you from the brimming bath,
Mother flung the house open and mopped
until evening throbbed with frogsong.
Still the flood would not subside.
For months our meals were spiced
with the tang of rotting timber.
But we clung on,
shelved you well above the water line
and traded in our thongs for waders.
Men arrived to try to drain the mire,
though alligators made the work impossible.
Eventually, the mangrove grew
too tangled to cut a path.
In Autumn, the last of the walls falling away,
we abandoned the land to the herons,
scattering you among the cattails
that consumed the wreckage.