Flood

Cover Image by Tom Gerhardt

by Will Beachey

Don’t come here, River.

It’s not floor joists

foundations

sheetrock

you destroy—

it’s where we kissed the kids goodnight

where we made spaghetti

on a Saturday night

listening to the

Penguin Café Orchestra

where I sipped a beer

watching baseball

where the boys practiced cello and piano.

-

Here’s the deal—

we’ll move the couch,

the piano,

the buffet

the beds—everything—

we’ll move them out.

We’ll lay down 9000 sandbags

we’ll work hard ‘til dark.

Then we’ll leave.

-

(Sorry, house; you seem so sad,

so shamed with your carpet ripped out,

the pad exposed.

But we’ll come back.

We’ll drive through deep water

even when we can’t see the road below

we’ll check on you every day.)

-

But then, River, you stay back.

Don’t come here.