Serial Poem: Looking out for Moses Part 1

I The first day of forty days and forty nights of rain

When the rains came,
wind howling to and through the fall
and people scurrying,
hiding indoors
under leaky roofs
with crying babes.

And the water seeping
under door cracks,
through window gaps,
prompting the wish for higher ground:
and the reply, the sound
of rain failing
on the roof,
on the ground,
calling to the wind
and the hard pitter-pat
turning into splash –
a bath.

And the rising level
as the water
like fog curling into alleys,
insinuating into spaces seen and unseen,
water collects itself
and rises.

And now you push through the water
in your home
and you look at your partner
and for the first time
you realise
it’s the last day
of your life together.
And so you make love
slowed by the gravity of water
sighs muffled by the falling of water
tempo measured by the rising water
feeling muted by the consuming water
feeling intensified by knowledge.
“Shall we struggle as the water fills the last remnants of air?
Or shall we tie ourselves to chairs….?”


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