July 19, 2022

when the water comes on *

We brace ourselves for the small cascade descending from the upstairs pipes. 
A plumber has said it’s not the plumbing. A tiling specialist has said it’s not the tiles.
Somewhere between these is an answer. Perhaps that’s true of anything. We toggle
our attention from one broken mechanism to another. Where is the source of the crack,
if there is one? And how far do we need to dig? And how much will it cost? And will 
the repair stick? Try silicone, says the plumber. Try silicone, says the tiler. But these 
are only temporary. Everything we need to know sits behind a wall that needs 
tearing down. We are afraid of what is waiting behind a torn-down wall. 
We have kept the faucets off. We have moved our bathing elsewhere. Mornings, 
we peer into an echo chamber of tiles and pipes, wondering when we’ll break. 

* This title comes from part of the last line of last week’s poem.