Water, Water

Water / Water New Hamburg, Ontario Rubkuai village, South Sudan locals rise locals starve with the river, heed warnings where once there was a river, to keep from its banks travel along arid banks thirty thousand gallons a tanker arrives with a few gallons of unwanted rain rain is worth all limbs burdens how burdened the village — storm drains the drought drains life from fields this summer, filled sport bottles this summer will be abandoned near will crust tongues splash pads, as the dying where saturated children riot tend to the dead in mist & spray, soak in inconsolable mothers silently the never-ending fount riot [eyes too dry to mist until fingers prune, can still spray bullets until thirst or thirst for just one more look sends them skipping as irises prune in the sun] cars gleam and grass grass is a memory springs underfoot; & graves spring up underfoot the bridge is power- like emaciated bridges washed, as though the downpour nothing stops the downpour hadn’t flooded of diarrhea — the filth binds spider’s webs cholera’s web people shower, run half-filled people kneel for droplets dishwashers & laundry machines, the desert launders a kettle screams the jawbone for someone, of the newest ghost who still anyone to listen listens, waits, for anyone