Plumbing

I've been turning all the valves,
trying to release the pressure. 
Cursing the design- the creator. 
Because the pressure is too much to take. 
Pipes rattle, gauges crack, and I laugh
rather than cry; The water has nowhere to go. 
My hands are bleeding.
Paper towels and duct tape are my salvation. 
And, yet. The crimson seeps through, like everything else.
There is no control. There never was. 
This maze of trembling direction will not last. 
Maybe it's best to wait? Let it erupt? 
See where the inevitable wave takes me? 
If I'm honest I've felt the pull longer than when 
I first learned how to read the pressure. 

I just don't want to drown.

-James Kelley 2019
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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