I was born

By Jessica Powers

by a creek, 

murky water waiting

ready to fill 

the house with stagnant 

want and yearning, 

journals of dreams

but the rain, how heavy

it came down

erasing all our pictures,

thick mud-water

filling the basement

every trace of memory soaked

with silt and slick something. 

Nothing was of use anymore.

Things that were once beautiful, 

now wilted with wet;

how easily water can ruin

Childhood, gone in a flash flood

The things we keep below the surface

are always the most precious

Jessica Powers is a Chicago-based poet and writer. Her work has appeared in Hair Trigger and Ransack Press. She is currently buying too many books and looking forward to writing on the train again someday. Find her on Twitter and Instagram.

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