by HEATHER BALL
There’s fury in a flood. Even serpents
look for shelter when water saturates
the Earth. I remember when we threw our
hands up and prayed for rain. For water. For
God’s Tears- Angels’ sweat! Anything!
to water the garden– to
sate those climbing cucumber vines–
to fill our ditches and ponds that cattle
so love to wade into up to their cow-
knees. Wet Cyprus Trees. “Please.” We prayed for rain.
But there’s fury in a flood. Thereafter
the rain stopped falling, the rivers and ponds
started to swell, like they was filling their lungs up-
Like they inhaled to shriek but never did.
Some furies cannot be heard, but felt deep.
we threw up our hands
and prayed, then, for the succor of bone-dry heat.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather Ball is an English Language Arts teacher in the Arkansas Delta. Her work has appeared in Dream Noir and the Sons and Daughters Literary Journal. Her motto is “Concision is king, but kings can be deposed.” She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from The University of the Ozarks.
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