At School

Warm rain in winter,

and for days the streets

were all awash

in downtown Scranton,

gray snow melting,

sewers overwhelmed.

I went to school without

a hat, without

a thought of what

might follow: flood

or fright, unnatural

disasters. Hours

into dusk I drummed

my fingers on the desk

at school as windows

darkened and the glass

was streaked. My teacher

wept, I don’t know why.

I found my mother crying

in the kitchen. I do not

know why. Sometimes

the waters must give way,

the skies tear open,

barrels overflow

and gutters run.