It’s a grey day, post flood dismay,
a veneer of silt and shit and mud
I pick my way through the display shelves and damp clothing on the pavements
‘Thanks for your help. Back soon!’ signs hang in the doorway.
Nothing will keep the river at bay
and it’s touching but stupid how cheerful everyone is
on the surface
already talking about the next one
faces ashen and shiny eyes
and smiles like lies
that the government tells
like flood defences
like building a town in a flood plain
then having the audacity to complain
about the river
when it rains.