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the hundred year flood
made me an island onto myself
reaching down inside
to retrieve a memory, or a sign
of how to survive
coming up empty
branches, then trees
dog houses, cars, swimming pools
sailing past my island
picking my guitar up off the floor
for when the water rushed in
what else could i do?
alone with the elements
cats looking to me for guidance
but i had none
we had to just wait it out
as the water rose
next morning, ice covered everything
tree roots now exposed
like arms reaching up from the earth
glistening ivory bones
having escaped their imprisonment
as i had escaped mine.