The Flood

By Christian Ward

The
streets flood

with our
childhood dreams.

Puddles
blend into

astronauts,
paving slabs, firemen.

Artists
wash the pavements

in a sea
of colour.

Our adult
selves, thin as spindles,

watch
from behind netted curtains,

holding
each other as the houses

slowly
move towards an ocean

of
someone else’s making, bodies

quivering
like fish desperate for water.