5 September 2009 | Vol. 9, No. 3

Nocturne with Perpetual Downpour

by KEITH MONTESANO

Because I have waited too long to ask why we deserve this,

           it keeps pounding harder than we ever imagined. Awnings

                      have collapsed over every balcony, cars start floating

gently down the streets, and even rats nestled in the sewers

           have already drowned. But still there's no flood, no looting.

                      Why we didn't leave earlier I'll never know. In the street:

toy wheels dipping and gliding, doll heads with their hair

           still attached, bobbing like sun-drenched apples. I wish

                      I knew where you were right now. A woman's screaming,

My Angel, My Angel, at the top of her lungs, chasing something

           lifeless down the sidewalk, no waders to keep her from tripping

                      into the water with every step. I think about you huddled

in the corner with the doctor, the day you wanted to tell her

           you'd be leaving, and I knew you wouldn't do it then. Too long,

                      you always said, with every decision you tried to make.

As the roof leaks everywhere, I'm not sure what's left

           to be fixed, as more and more fight through the water, waiting

                      for something to give, for something to keep them safe again.