The Well

Together we looked over a rim
of broken brick.
The sound of drips
blipped up from far below;
dark stirrings, dead bird’s wings.
A memory of buckets.

The deepest hand-cut hole in town;
big news to someone sometime.
Now we’ve all got
taps and hosepipes
SMEG fridges
rainfall showers
the flush toilet
and no-one gives a twopenny
stuff about this well.
Why would they?

Together we looked over a rim
of broken brick
and threw all our love in.
The sound of drips
blipped up from far below;
a marriage, other simpler things.
A softly whispered ‘Fuck it’.