Original Composition Date: Sunday, March 21, 2010
spigots in golden brass, with angel wing shaped handles,
lined up in a row, at least two of them, sitting serenely,
for a human hand to impose it’s mastery,
come and turn it on,
just a short movement to the right or left,
a flick of the wrist, really
water pours out, (or maybe a deathly gas)
expertly crafted, waiting
carrying the liquid stuff of life, (or death perhaps)
with only a touch, pressure,
but it must be a human hand,
will not work for pay of any other kind.
Not a cat, or a dog, a rat, or a goose.
This is not an animal water spigot.
must have a human hand to work in this place.
the pregnant pause,
as we wait for the life – giving flow,
making lawns wet and green,
and cracked mud merge it’s cracks.
Drink for the thirsty soul, who knows how
twist and turn the handle,
chain reaction deep inside the pipes somewhere,
movement of liquid along a predfined course
spewing out when called for,
into some other predefined container,
preventing loss or random distribution onto the soil of the planet
but only in relation to, some other predetermined purpose.
Purpose? What is it’s purpose,
if not to flow freely, as in the water cycle ,
uncontained except by the planet,
in atmosphere and in lake,
No space moisture allowed.
Could be deadly
to beings not designed for spacetravel.
there, all liquids must be rigidly funneled, purified and recycled.
No punctured veins or tubing of any kind allowed.
Spigots with handles, turning on off the flow,
Carefully maintained so as not to lose a drop.
Precious, life-giving H2O.