No Water Comes

I don’t know what to say. Holding

the kettle under the tap, no water

comes. It usually does, I don’t know

how, you just turn the tap and bless me,

water. We speak of a spring, what

is a spring? A word for water

coming freely, when invited.

Does your water ever dry up

like this? I stare at the blank white

of an empty cup. Can’t make tea then,

for these thirsty throats. I have

nothing, I muse, to tell these people,