The white farmhouse he grew up in;
nothing as it should be.
their seeds carried in by flood waters.
The heartland, turning into lakes.
A conspiracy of silence;
a lingering fear;
a Chinese hoax.
When the foundation went in,
unleashing a wave of water,
fertile soil washed away
leaving cracks in the fields.
In the distance, a lava-like inferno.
The glowing sliver of hell burning.
The decomposing cross his father built,
surrounded by somber parents.
I look at the heavens once in a while and think,
no choice but to wait and watch.