Jefferson Holdridge

From Poems from The Wells of Venice

Rafts

to my mother and father

The water floods our lot
As it always does, though
This time it wasn’t rising
From the pond and swamp
Below, but ran down
From the front, carving
Ravines in the yard, washing
Out the grass, trees and house.
All the landfill they had brought
To make the foundation firm.
The boulders along the driveway
Left standing, reminders
Of the bulldozers that first
Piled and levelled the dirt.
There you both stood
On what little remained,
Smiling, not understanding
That you would be swept away
Too, and here I would be
Alone, like an outcast
On a raft, who waits for help,
On waters as bereft as he.