Flash Flood for the Drowning
by Julia Feinberg
the rain scared cars off the streets
and left a few to drive against the current
of recycled heat pumped downtown and away
it’s like the sky’s water broke and we all came out stillborn
or we finally made the heavens fear us enough to break and sweat
or it’s like you said and this is just pillowcases being wrung out
and our excuse for being dry-mouthed before and after
I wish I could take your advice and drive with the windows down when there is nothing to rear-end
but windshield wipers can’t stop me from seeing you strapped by a seatbelt
unconvinced that the moving parts of the waking-world can pause
pruning instead of fighting for airspace through the moon roof
because you started holding your breath the first time
you thought the sky looked overcast and accepted
that we could hardly carry the weights of our otherworlds
so of all things you salvaged your silence and hoped
cloud-lips would part and say something love-like for the both of us
About the Author
Julia K. Feinberg lives in New York City and is a senior at The Hewitt School. She won the Interlochen Fine Arts award for playwriting and was a participant in the Tisch Future Dramatic Writers program. Her poetry has been nationally recognized by Scholastic Art and Writing awards and can be found in typishly. She is Editor-in-Chief of her school’s foreign language magazine and Co-Editor of the art and literary magazine. She’s running on candy and Brisk as she’s working on her first short film.