poem

 The Well

We all have a deep well of love

Supposedly, even me

Or so I once alleged

I dug it myself 

Scratched it out of the earth

With my fingernails 

Choked in the depths

Of its toxic fumes

Fed on the worms

That sipped at its source

Propped the shaft 

With brick and back  

Until I tapped 

Into a vast aquifer 

A fragile hollow bone 

Heavy with sweet nectar

Only then did I climb out

Beside it I still lie

The sound of its waters

Dripping back into itself

As it falls from its walls

Of black stone deep down

In a darkness of my own 

Is romance enough for me 

I never lower the bucket anymore

Afraid my rope not long enough

The pain of pulling it up dry

When I’m desperate for a drink

Afraid to try 

2/14/22