Poem: Plumbing

 
Worst ever, what I blurted
her plumbing didn’t work.
I bit my cheek, broke skin.
Your plumbing doesn’t work.

I am unskilled day labor
and the caulk I lay doesn’t hold.
Heart palpitations glisten through saline
But your plumbing shouldn’t work?

Bolts hold down the toilet,
Tears and blood stains porcelain.
Buried, blurred, my resolution,
bourbon and my salted armpits.

You bleed inward, gush it.
My waterworks twisted.
The piping unfit, and my hands
smooth, adverse to hard labor.

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