Flooded Cellar

The cellar door is locked behind me A musty yellow light spills beneath and leaps from the stair It springs back up shaken from the inky pool it finds there Sending tiny crestless waves to slap the wood five steps below my toes Their echoes grow monstrous in the shrinking air Stretched and hollow like giant black balloons A crowd of floating refugees bob across a dark suspended world below Cups and shoes and other refuse of some sedentary life I shiver, for within the tide there runs a colder thicker blood A shadow indistinct that circles with a scaly patience The water’s rising The door is locked