Hot. Dusty. Drought.
The city rations water by
shutting it off at midnight.
With red dirt dusted ankles
we tumble in, powwowed out.
Turning the tub faucet,
Auntie says a prayer
answered with a trickle…
There’s just enough to wash
our feet before we collapse in
front of the blissful air-conditioner.
Published in 2016 as part of Seattle King County Poetry on Busses. More than 1,600 residents responded to an open call for 50-word poems on the theme of “Your Body of Water” and 365 poems were selected for print and digital display, Poems appeared on buses, light rail, and streetcars, seven of which were outfitted exclusively with poems, and zero advertisements.
