Water Meter

Cracked land lines, withered veins gasping

As we tread. The move; a dust-encrusted

Head, the lofty things shut away

Unread. Your memorabilia sets the

Stage; the keys, bells, ankles

Clanking further away from another

House upon the moor. A water meter,

Not a stream, greets me as I land.

Tap, flush, drip, tears measured

In time we abuse. I huddle

Around my children as you

Relocate your fuse.

The musty air we inhale, the dead

Woman’s decor confusing light

And dark, ‘all in time; but what

A view,’ yours; a homemaker,

Mine, to escape for something

Blue.