Poem by David L O’Nan : “The Flood We Drank in ’38”

Flood, Water, Grass, Nature, Rain, Plow
The Flood We Drank in '38

Here we all are
a broken hug
Trying to underline avalanches, but
we are just a decay in
the sliding gun storm.
Sucked into the ice and the debris of 
old newspaper, talking 
about "the flood of 1938"
When our grandparents were young and 
living in poverty

And yet to obey
the chauvinistic Midas
Gold robes perfumed in polio static. They
drank the amoebic waters -
as it crept into their mouths as they slept.

And your father ran away like mine.  To
some drugstore nurses.
Riding through the city in Cadillacs
Are you a forgery?
I think you are a forgery
I think you are California
after a primadonna earthquake -
still dressed in the gold and wearing a Manfield wig.

Watching you back when
when you were just a sheer Chiffon dress
wearing circular green microbeads.
Old women who were Ginger Rogers laugh at your new desires,
and you call to supremacy.

You think that he will sway you away
from this instantaneous crushing,
but this departure will just leave us both...
drinking swill to rusting throats. 

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios: David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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