after
the flood
Noah lived always in the tension
between the promise of the rainbow
and the memory of choking screams
in the water, the scratching and sliding
of fingernails on the lurching sides
of his Ark.
in
the bottle he found some resolution
he drowned the screams again
in an hour or two of forgetfulness,
his eyes turned to the earth.
they
found him naked and oblivious.
some things within him had not survived
the flood. Some things that did survive
already undermined his pretensions
to a brave new world.
We,
his grandchildren, continue his work,
building ever more sumptuous illusions
to drown our struggling awareness
year
by year
we are found ever more
naked.