Pump
It was an anonymous
part of the present.
It bore imprints of percolating gears enmeshed into
a tentative wheel that turned
back the tap of hours
streaming, streaming,
at the end of a handle
– a tear-like dream, a sadness in uproar.
Pump
It was an anonymous
part of the present.
It bore imprints of percolating gears enmeshed into
a tentative wheel that turned
back the tap of hours
streaming, streaming,
at the end of a handle
– a tear-like dream, a sadness in uproar.
3 thoughts on “Pump”
Thank you for posting our work – much appreciated!
Dear Irina, I love your poem.
Our works pass so wonderful together.
You’r am Inspiration for me!
Bread requires two main ingredients: water and flour.
Both exist independently yet neither can claim primacy in the mix.
Then comes the kneading and the melting of the souls together with a drop of yeast.
However, the very best bread has an ingredient that one can never overlook: soul.
The “bread” you two make together has it all.
Congratulations.