valve

valve

Old hands encircle the rusted wheel
With hard sharp turns – no one will feel
Befalling life,
Coagulated water,
Or gasp of air
Escape from the ancient spicket there
It shall remain only frozen steel
As grunts seep out along with breath
That casts white shadows, cold as death
Encrusted metal pierces skin
Raw hands right turn and torn again
To sever the pulse from Loved and thirst
The pipes above swell up to burst
And shriek, and moan, but they do not
Realizing rotations that must stop,
Slow,
And grind down to a halt
The final drop found at fault
In acetaldehyde-clogged drains below
A pair of bloodied hands relax,
Release
Another chamber laid to peace
And not a beam of light bleeds through its cracks
The third pump’s helm will not reverse
So calm hands blindly feel, traverse
The broken nozzles, washers, clamps
Across machine components, damp
Not feeling, touching, moving forward
The final valve they reach out toward.