AFTER THE FLOOD — Summary

What have the sunflowers lost? Look at them all, heads bent down heavy, anxiously, earnestly searching the ground. Or maybe they hear Persephone raped and tattered and scared crying down there for her mother. There’s nothing they can do.

Swallows are lined up on the wire now: black beads on a string

Once more I’m getting fat like I was after the baby was born but now I don’t have that excuse. I’ll never have that excuse again.

We drove along roads that had been closed, gravel thick along the shoulders. New channels carved in the river.

Back home, a catbird perched on top of a wild apple tree pretended to be somebody else.

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In the aftermath of a flood, the speaker looks around at a changed landscape and finds her own sadness reflected in it. The sunflowers, heads bowed, seem to be mourning something, or listening for Persephone crying underground for her mother. The line "There's nothing they can do" feels like a quiet admission of helplessness, and it hints that the speaker feels the same.

The poem then turns inward. She notes she is gaining weight again, as she did after her baby was born, but now there's no "excuse." The repeated "never" suggests a loss, perhaps of that stage of life, though the poem doesn't spell it out. Then come plain details: closed roads, gravel, a river with new channels. Everything has shifted.

The ending is odd and touching. A catbird, a bird known for mimicking others, "pretended to be somebody else." After upheaval, the speaker may long to do the same. The mood is subdued, wistful and watchful, with grief held back rather than shouted.

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