KEVIN A. RISNER

Low Level

others must have felt this way before
walking down streets submerged
not because of heavy rain but because
of high tide, the sea surface still like glass
but the exact same level as the wharf,
the walkway, the tightest alleys, where cats aren’t
the ones to slink from trashcan to trashcan
anymore – beavers amble instead
find a way to pull planks and leftovers into pyramids
to damn the onslaught, what a curse
I’ve not had the honor of seeing
until I reach this low, fallen to the depths
without a rope, nothing to pull me up
to the second floor, the roof, safety