kurt-anderson.com

I have a cup that fills and fills
whenever I ignore it.
Every now and then
the “drip drip” on the damp earth
stirs my memory.

I run, kneel, crane my neck, cup my hands together,
catch droplets on my cracked skin -
only a few
before the stream stops -
then I turn away,

rubbing my fingers together,
feeling the cool slickness
as the drops evaporate.
I notice the roughness of my hands
until I forget the cup again.