Taken from me,

my arms and legs

and my lips.

They are just all empty sockets and flesh now.

Where the groundwater comes from

to where it ends up;

the reservoir,

any one really.

au revoir.

I did it to myself.

I emptied it myself

But at least I can still watch the same movie,

drink from the same wellspring.

It’s different listening with only one in one ear, though.

It’s different,

without solace.

It hits different, when OSHA gets involved, too.

When we easily shoulda coulda been sports writers,

the fire and spear.

the frog and the scorpion.

Reaching over our heads,

and lifting with our backs

and filling our cups.

The arrowhead,

pressed against my stomach,

threatening me, all the way from the top step on the ladder,

but at least it’s dignified in it’s approach,

before our cup runs empty,

and we decide to take off our uniform.