sun drags itself past pieces of broken ceramic clouds
hovering above the blanket of thick feverish wet air at sea level
as though a drop of melted butter slid off the platter
and into the great blue tablecloth leaving a stain.
the worst has passed, but the foul-smelling streets
are still partially flooded in many places
yet to completely dry.
there are patches of floating green algae beginning to clump
into masses resembling tiny islands seen from space,
while some bigger ones are reminiscent of river deltas
in the shallow obsidian glass water
obscuring parts of my reflection.