The poems after the flood

The poems after the flood Are warm and soft Like your back That I would like to hold onto Like a shipwrecked woman Shipwreck I call out into the distance

The poems after the flood Are rough and sharp at the same time They resemble glaciers That as they melt release their waters They flood outward evaporate The poems after the flood Move in the ice ages the fiery ones

The poems after the flood Are loud and clear Proud like a mountain river That rises up before the cloud mountains Break while you look at me And kingfishers learn to dive In your eyes In the cold seas before Greenland In the thunder of the roaring cannons Even the imagined ones

The poems after the flood I write exactly on the day When the President of the United States Attacks Venezuela And I completely lose my mind Out of fear of a world war alone I long For your arms And entire mountain ranges entire oceans Entire time zones Lie between us And the clock of fate Places its hand on some shifting plate Tectonic seismograph

The poems after the flood Are not still are not quiet These are loud times And therefore I write very loudly and fully That I want to come to you And longing is What determines my steps The quiet ones but also the large ones Step by step I draw closer to you

The poems after the flood Are ice It melts in hell fires It melts