by Jason Flaig

There wasn’t time to save anything when the flood came. Streets became rivers; the houses uphill survived, the ones downhill did not. Slabs of the dam, carried miles by the water, settled and stayed. I want to believe it was always meant to happen, but I know that isn’t true. There is no justice in a flood, only a path: all within it, all without. No one drowns inevitably, and stones do not move unless compelled.

I’ve been thinking about the flood a lot lately, ever since they started rebuilding the dam.