Flooded
After ten days,
the water receded
leaving mud beneath
our feet—
caking our shoes,
pulling us
slick and sinking into
memories of what was:
before.
The weight was too much.
I wallowed up to my ankles
in muck
drowning frustration and
standing as a
deadweight,
imagining tree roots
and fewer
responsibilities.
With a slurp of suction
I stepped free,
leaving
my shoes
to fend for themselves,
as mud
seeped through my socks
and between my toes.
About the Author: Erika Seshadri lives on an animal rescue ranch in Florida with her family. When not caring for tame critters or feral children, she can be found writing. Her work has appeared with Stonecrop Magazine, Funicular, Nine Cloud Journal, Quibble Lit, Hare’s Paw Literary Journal, Dreamer’s Magazine, and many others.
Image Credit: “Flood” (1924) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 