A Blow and Well

Wind is puffing
and the sky turned
black in another happy
day at the bottom
of the well. I howl
at the sky and it drags
you across
the yard like a rag
doll. Someone gets
water and I spring
from the bucket
just in time to pull
you from the funnel
but your pummeled
and bloody, your eyes
puffed up and black.
I shake my fist
at the clouds
and curse the sky
to buy and work
the sun.

I like it here
at the bottom
of the well. The bricks
are cold and green.
I find a secret passage
that leads
to a cavern where
men board windows
in haste for their underground storm.
I drag you home
and you mutter
something in Russian
then crawl back to the well. You said
you liked it there.

The water in the well is old
and green but slides
down my throat.
I pour some down
you and you gulp
bubbles. A cramp and you double
over. That’s when
you found your own secret
passageway. I want
to follow but the men
boarding the windows
make me work. I sweat
into a papercup. I never
saw you again but knew
that there was always
another well, another secret
passage and always more storms.

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