the wave

the wave,
by farris graybear,
4/11/2014,
Kentucky

It began along the fifty two levee, just below Pottinger's Landing
brown as chocolate milk, swirling fiercely, topped with foam

beside the railroad bridge, the whirlpool begins expanding
blocked by flood, only boating or swimming can get me home

Farmer's Bank's been turned into Florida, three sides fighting flotsam
then the sound of fury, as the rails disappear below the wave

All the alcohol and summer squalls saturate the bedlam
now miles wide, the fork is truly rolling, I cross with feet so brave

second month of eighty nine, another white line on Howard's store
new museum filled with mud, and Sherwood Inn soaked with sud

seven inches and counting, yet still it would rain even more
at last the wave has passed, and everything's covered in mud