water pressure

on the night the pipes burst
there were geese in the field. 
the sound of 
a cut morning. water from
the well dungeon. our hands
soaked. our bones like oars
in water. i begged for the water
to stop. the gushing. i thought
the earth was going to flood
& we would have to become
amphibians again. my gills 
like skirt pleats. there is 
never enough time to 
stop a storm. a thumb on
the vein of a hose. sharks in the water.
ghosts in the sharks. i do not
remember which one of us
realized we could cut the power.
we stood there for a long time
just dripping, knee-deep 
in feathers. the geese did not flinch.
instead they laughed to each other.
i waited until you walked away
to weep. i remember why
it had been a long day but these last
few years have felt like rosaries
of long days. the night, always 
rushing to chew on my ear.
i cupped my hands & lifted 
this tiny pool of water. did not see
a warbling face like i hoped to.
just the dark. the earth's belly
meeting air. it is so strange the balance
between gather & burst. 
it took three days to get the water back.
by the time we did, the geese were gone.