← v20n2, Fall 2021Poetry · Volume 20, Number 2
Deluge
And so it was—twenty-two and suddenly
gushing, as if a dam had burst or a thundercloud
deep inside the storm of me, the flood
like a horse loosed from its stable, blood
racing down my thighs, I thought
surely I will die, so much of me
outside of me and still more
leaving, an exodus, the blood
rushing as animals do just before
the worst of it, as they must have
done before the deluge came, those left
behind, as from their homes
the unspared—perhaps one of them
a woman, my age—looked on
with something close to wonder,
unaware of what approached.
