When Our Water Got Shut Off

When Our Water Got Shut Off

"In response, Kiki's face resolved itself into impassive blackness. It was this sphinx-like expression that sometimes induced their American friends to imagine a more exotic provenance for her than she actually possessed." -On Beauty, Zadie Smith


When our water got shut off
I carried on as an explorer
from room to room
canteen in hand: find water
forever finding water.

Our silence grew into trees,
birches at first then apple 
then wildlife, birds and snakes
then thick bushes with cranberries and swamps inside of sunsets. 

The lagoon was out beside your truck, 

sea creatures nettled into the ground like carrots, 

their faces buried but their toes wiggling the earth's core: 

This little piggy went to market

This little piggy stayed home

Thick and salty ocean like motor oil enveloped most of the front and side yard.

I had met your bright teeth years ago, 
a row of white flat picket fences and a house with a lake.

I can't remember how your freckles align your back like constellations anymore.

I don't know how to keep the earth from moving into cracks.

Two garden gnomes stood abreast the property line, 

a cast iron mattress off to the side where a gate once stood.

The gnomes shoved neon gazing globes high above their heads, 

an offering to the sky. 

It made the entrance and exit so sacrificial looking.

So silly:

Distracting our dogs and gods with,  
Look see, shiny objects.