

After Joel Sternfeld’s Photograph: After A Flash Flood, Rancho Mirage, California, 1979
This has to be a painting: composed driveway,
thin black line in tight, delicate strokes, separating
the plane, the earth from itself in this fabricated,
half-city fever dream, in this afterworld two-piece puzzle,
showing children what used to be, directions
reading: Cut the dark middle line from right to left, and when
you get to the small bushes, keep cutting until the end.
With no fence or guardrail, how did someone drunk
not shift to reverse and careen down the gorge, what’s left
of this former backyard? It was easy. They watched
the water from the garage: torrents of rain swirling,
dead trees uprooted and floating to who-knows-where.
But they didn’t see the car, didn’t know as they watched
that someone was there: tucked into a ball
in the front seat, the only shelter they could find.