← v20n2, Fall 2021
Poetry · 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.