What Now

Jacob Griffin Hall


The roads have closed for flooding.

The rows of cars are marbled in a mist.

Watching gulls dive-bomb

the waves behind the pier, the only thing

that’s left for me is gratitude.

Thank you for this.

Thank you for the landscape

that’s not yet turned to dust,

the wet gusts filled with clumsy birds

and hints of sunlight,

and me, soaking wet as well,

allowed by the grace

of what flesh

to watch.

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