Sarah Carleton     Tampa     (Pamela Epps)
Flood Zone

Back porch, black sky, bugs as big as tadpoles fly
close to one light bulb, flick and bap
to the pulse of pond frogs.

We lounge one step from underwater in this sub-sand 
altitude where alligators stumble drunk 
into backyards

led by primordial memories of submerged land
and baffled to be breathing pure
sodden oxygen

so let’s acclimate ourselves to this place from the inside 
out, get soused on margaritas and tea
till our heads swim--

let’s drink and dream until the walls bend, until catfish 
weave through louver windows
until we grow gills.

- first published in Valparaiso Poetry Review (Spring/Summer 2021 (Vol. XXII, No. 2)
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