by Margaret McGowan
after Tyler Raso
The tamper-evident water
Falls onto the floor. We need
Galoshes. We need a pitchfork.
We need conjugation.
M says he will not sleep tonight
Because the fire hydrants wrapped
Around the house will give him
Nightmares. The water continues to fall.
There are puddles in the kitchen. The only
Way to remedy this is to make a shrine,
Take a bright pink pill, continue to breathe.
My therapist says that water is the passage
Into another world, or an omen signifying
Prosperity, or the sign of a poltergeist.
M says that yoga will resolve
Our ills, will bring us to Nirvana,
Will re-set clocks that display
The incorrect time. I am skeptical.
We try to make the water
Stop. We find a hole in the wall.
Water is leaking out at ten gallons
Per minute. We try to plug the hole
With moss, with cotton candy, with
Van Gogh’s painting The Sunflowers,
With our everyday problems.
We put the water in jars
And place them on the counter.
We will sleep on the second floor,
Dream of drought, tulips, white
Bread, anything that is dry.
About the Author:
Margaret McGowan received her BA in English Education from UAlbany, State University of New York. She was a finalist in the 2022 DiBiase Poetry Contest. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in Hobart Pulp, Qu, The Raven Review, MoonPark Review, Ghost City Review, and others.