Lake Effect, Spring 2004, Volume 8: Lost

James Haug



Four clouds lumber like lumber trucks
over Hatfield. A farmer’s converted

a chicken coop into a flood museum
of ceramic shards, the ruins of a ’32 Nash,

a red pincushion. He says next time
the water can have it all.

There must be another turn coming up.
The pavement dwindles to dirt,

to two tracks and a frog pond.
To turn around means to enter your dust.