I dissipate lightly, as of noisome gasses
loosed from my skin.
Did he enter somehow, through some crevice?
Had I known, I would have clamped shut
with busy fingers.
No… and no one can rack me that way.
Eyes propped open and large,
I can’t miss the comings and goings….
Water of my life, water is life.
gingerly I rub its ointment into the fissures
of my domain.
Neuken is gezond.
Again, the trough is empty–
Just put it on its side
so as not to catch rain and spoil all purity
in a rusty basin.
My creaky engine and the inverted phenomenon:
Water is sifted from my eroded gears
and leaves them flaky, red, and vaporous silt.