It seems they don't look at the ocean here,
have maybe gotten used to the smell of brine
as it wafts over gasoline and fried things
and the rumble of the shuttle,
the tired meandering of silver
against the blue of the sky,
of the sea.
That sea that rushed
past the dunes, over planks
of split wood, into the streets,
into their homes, their tv's short-circuiting,
seeping up through floor boards
and into closets and beds.
It sat, that water, for days,
for months, warped wood
and left walls ashy with salt,
everything a little bit white,
everything a little bit green,
and then black, as the mold
moved in and grew over
all the things bought or given,
and then left on the side of the road
to be hauled away with the trash.
Nicole Cirino is a New York native, a Brooklyn resident, and an educator. Her varied background in Sociology, Writing, and Child Development informs her current work as a preschool math coach for a research project aimed at improving the lives of children living in poverty in New York City. She is an alumna of Sarah Lawrence College and is honored to share a piece inspired by Hurricane Sandy on its one year anniversary.