Carrying the water I saved today
in the leaky cup of my hands,
I approach Earth,
beached on her belly
but stirring slightly
in a miserable wind.
As high on one side as I can reach
I let my pittance spill
down the cracked blue skin,
careful of her blowhole,
and I think her squint eye’s moon
rolls to see more,
but a hurricane clouds the pupil,
ringed with smoke on fire.
Copyright © 2013 Sarah Lindsay
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.