Under the Tap

I am the glass.

Above me-

the tap-

the world.

A hand turns it up.

.

It’s pouring out,

steaming water

with chunks of sharp ice.

I am the glass.

.

I have no arms.

This isn’t

Beauty and the Beast.

The ice won’t turn into a prince.

.

I see someone,

passing close by.

I call for help.

I know they can turn it off.

They have hands.

.

They do nothing.

.

I am the glass.

Above me-

the tap-

the world-

Out of it pours sheer misery.

.

 

It makes me angry.

I call out again.

And nothing happens.

I rant at the tap.

And nothing happens.

I wait.

.

I wait.

.

I wait.

.

I tip over.

And feel a slight release-

though the tap has not stopped

and the water and ice

are still flowing.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s