The Well

He grabs her wrists to keep her fists From beating his still chest. But she withstands and pulls his hands To rest on her shrill breast. He pulls her near to hide her tears And kiss her pallid face. But then he leaves her soul bereaved And flees their secret place. She runs– runs– runs To the center of the town And weeps into the well. Dawn disguises Steam that rises From the tears that swell. Her throat is dry, and with a sigh, She lowers the small pail To take a drink before she thinks Once more of his betrayal. The water burns, her stomach churns, While she sinks to the ground. As liquid spills, she lies quite still, And makes no other sound. No one– one– one At the center of the town Sees her behind the well. They take their share Without a care And use it where they dwell. The water is distributed Throughout the humming town. It’s used to brew rich soups and stews And tea to wash them down. The illness spreads as all are fed, Obtuse in their last feast. Decay begins from deep within As poison is released. The sun– sun– sun Lights the center of the town, Casts shadows on the well. Their brows are moist And not one voice Can break the silent spell. The sun subsides when he decides To return to their place. When he arrives, the moon shines high And lights the river’s haze. He ventures down toward the town, To roam its quiet streets. But as he nears, it becomes clear Nobody truly sleeps. He runs– runs– runs To the center of the town And finds her by the well. Won’t touch her face, But for the trace Of tears he cannot quell.