Storm Surge

It came in waves
at first.

I'd duck under
or climb over,
tire myself out
with every effort.

Then, another hot slap
from the Atlantic
took me down,
sucked me in
until up
and the ground
weren't any different.

The air slipped
away
one bubble here,
twenty there.

My lungs burned
with the hunger
and pain
of wanting more.

I always want
more
when there's nothing
left.

No breath, no happiness,
it's all gone -
a sunken beach house
smashed to memories
by the storm;
an entire branch
of family
broken off
at the seams.

I am lost
because no one
sees me
disappear.

I scream
in the distance,
hands flailing,
body frantic,
but you
are never listening.

After three tries
I fail;
the water
recedes,
taking me
with it.