Flooded Basement
The rug meets the floor with clamoring
threads and dust on cement as I shuffle,
child-to-bed and lean on my piano
tinted brown and gray.
The basement fills with smokey water.
Smiling shag swims between my clammy toes
So is my sliding attempt to push the baby grand's
tiny wheels, bend-straining joints for shoving.
The water is almost warm enough
to ignore, lapping against the sticky keys
at the base of the ladder that leads upstairs,
where rectangle windows shed rectangle light
that breaks upon the surface of my piano.
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