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For a winter that never comes; waters that never recede.

Welling up

Kneegee_croppedby twdhughes18 Feb 2014

Filling up in measures
of bathtubs per second,
they uncover an unknown
manhole in the hallway.
Pulling the plug, they half
believe it could stop
this welling up.

Outside, fences at half mast
bloat with water retention.
Partitioned plots
choked in tarmac
drown in parturition,
abhorring this upward
percolation against nature.

Around the fire they'll tell
apocryphal tales of the storm;
sluice gates unmanned
in the simple fifties, leaving
two fruits next door
standing in dressing gowns
down a flight of steps,

knee deep in it.
And these homes now
further gentrified; back
gardens built over
to increase the footprint.
In front, hard standing for cars
runs off into crying in the rain.

Think back, friend, to when
touring urban sewers
seemed an ironic adventure
into analogue feculence;
to when water knew its place.
The wind shall not allow
even tear tracks to settle.