Posted by in Blog on Dec 2, 2011



Last night the water rose

past our windows. The sun

twists and bulges above the surface.


Fish are everywhere; they nose round corners,

pouring in startling shoals out of closes,

nudging under cars and spiralling


up the staircases of buses.

They dart away from dirty boiling

out of drains, and hide among the branches


of the city trees. There is a distant

and mysterious orchestra,

but the rhythm of the undertow is stronger


and compelling downwards. My ribs

will spring apart like bucket handles,

my organs will unfurl and waft like ugly plants.


Frightened awake, I am clenched

tight in a burst accordion,

and all the bright fish are gone.