Our basement is flooding

If you look by the gate, there’s a rock

that split. And that’s where the rain’s

coming in. Daddy was a whisper

above sirens, tornados in the air

and dancing in our heads. We’ll just dig

a trench. Dig down 12 feet, 18 inches.

Find some gold. The wailing quieted,

seemed to cease, failing to take the rain

away with it. Hearts now calming,

but not long before Eddie runs down

the stairs: Hey, Dad! We got some more!