The slow gray flow of street
peters out in a circular pond,
rippling in asphalt eddies around
occasional tired looking weeds
breaching the surface from silty depths.
Five houses lay scattered as driftwood
on a waveless shore, burned skin
flaking in tiny curled shadows,
roofs weeping excess shingles
onto a hiss of dry grass.
A dog furred in nondescript brown,
tail down and straight, paces
with a slight limp, tongue drooping
like a faded rose petal ready to fall,
searching for a place to ford the current.