Flood A woman in the bar whispered the sun would tomorrow come up underwater. The ice dam above town had broken, water suddenly raging, the lake swollen, the rivers mad, and people sandbagging. A school northeast of the lake was washed all the way to the marina; desk drawers, textbooks, erasers bobbed into the flooded hotel. On a piling overwatching the bay, a drowned horse snagged. We ate pretzels, sang and resang old campsongs. Sloe gin and high water. We emptied the afternoon of ex-husbands who did not understand us. Then we took photos of the horse.
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