No. 17 in the flood of '93

in the flood of ‘93

we fled our home
waded into the night
into a black sea
that glittered and moved
in moonlight
where the parking lot
should be.

with one tote bag
hastily packed,
dolls and towels
and string game books
and crosswords
and knitting,

we would be amused
in disaster.

Patrick was still
with us then,
just a small boy.
Molly screamed,
Shaun thought his art
would be safe on the bed.

Later, we’d go back
to salvage.

There’s a picture of Patrick,

in the hotel elevator
clutching an armful of cereal box
robots, creations
that survive
now only
in memory & pictures

as Patrick himself
now only
survives.

--Zann Carter 04.17.09