The War at Home

‘change is now
change is now
things that seem to be solid are not’

The words came through, transistor
turned up loud. The music, the beat,
lost now, but
the words hang on.

Revolution: a crown of tree
raises itself out of the heavy flood.
A branch lifts under null skies’ weight pushes against walls of air, flashing clefts in it.
The floodwaters stir, mud swirls to the surface.
A hand, arm,
lifts in the crawl -
hands, arms, intricate -
upflashing -
a sea full of swimmers!
their faces’ quick steady
lift for air -
Maybe what seems evanescent is solid.

Islands step out of the waves on rock feet.