lost & found in flyover country

mostly poems. published weekly.

Obsolete

We heard it even with our earbuds in, 
the rumble that told us the water 
was coming, so much more of it and faster 
than we could have imagined, even in those
days when we could imagine at all, 
a long-ago time when we still understood
that the water does not answer to us 
but we to the water, we consulted our 
apps and moved to higher ground, but alas, 
the gods speak through an obsolete interface, 
bringing not the flood, but the fire this time. 

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