Tagged: pipes

the first december

the first december
in the new old home, we have
become privy to

the twilight dialogues between
the heat pipes crossing households

not crying in the

not crying in the
shower because it’s cliché
allows for half a
dozen other options,
like turning the valve
all the way to the
right until the heart
clinches, or turning
it fully left until
conviction melts.
then there’s always
the option of turning
it off – some people
consider crying
in the shower,
while others
stand in long lines
waiting to fill their pails

it’s how dad rises

it’s how dad rises
before daybreak to flush out
the cold water from

the pipes for us – so that we
never have to stop dreaming