Flood Disarray by Amee Broumand
Flood Disarray Amee Broumand They wake when the clock tolls midnight—if it’s Christmas Eve, they will speak over the dreaming city the river birds are fooled, stabbing silvered cans of gold and oak bones— Tonight the ground ripples with hints of fish that are not fish Over window-ledges the ground is a pond—twitching, it changes…