Three Days of Rain

I wake up, even now, convinced that the river has risen.
The crops are gone, and I wait on the porch for the
Sheriff to come, the nudge which sends the bug
From sink-side into the swirl, and down. Oblivion.
Off of the land, and into the city. I watch as my
Father fails us, falls through the doorway, and
Curses, and smacks my mom, and I come back
From meetings and shit-eating grins without
Offers or money. The sign on our door says the
Bank wants us gone. A sheriff is coming. I feel
Like a drink. The world is swirling. Three days
Of rain. Ten months of nothing. The river is
Rising again.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 45 times
Written on 2010-05-09 at 14:08

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