Flood by Eliza Griswold

Eliza Griswold

Flood by Eliza Griswold

T.

Work work work work work. But pauses are for poems.

Flood

Eliza Griswold

I woke to a voice within the room. Perhaps.

The room itself: “You’re wasting this life

expecting disappointment.”

I packed my bag in the night

and peered in its leather belly

to count the essentials.

Nothing is essential.

To the east, the flood has begun.

Men call to each other on the water

for the comfort of voices.

Love surprises us.

It ends.

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