Water Main

In the shadow of November’s remembrance

muddy chunks mirror

blood and soil of a hundred years

Where there were spilled

Over a hundred beers

The alleyway lies ruptured

pulsating arteries breath in the grey

and diesel fume

to the generator’s chorus

Three-quarter horsepower marks the time

While surgeons in coveralls and hard hats

rush to stem the bleeding

Tonight in their homes

at warm dinner tables

they will shrug off their heroics

and the city will limp on


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