Ms Mitchell- you were right

read they were draining it

but I didn’t listen

left the sign up sheet alone

with the empty breakfast bowl

winter run

muddy paths, all up my legs

panting stopped at the sharp fence

and smiled- grey water still there

moved on, moved away

preoccupations of the self take hold

charging through the months

after what? I didn’t know

til last weekend

forced to stop, take stock

made me ill and better again

all in three days

an hour before times up

we take a walk

almost a whole winter later

the ground already hardening

and we both gasped

hands grasping the cool metal

the vast expanse of water- gone

now a vast expanse of nothingness

drying mud

but mostly dead cracked earth

rubbish scattered, dropped from boats

the birds disorientated like us

ripped my heart out then

just like the heart of the area 

evaporated

where would the damsels play now?

we walked back in shock

the old boat club had gone

no tall white sails anymore

to juxtapose the ice blue sky

when the houses come

I shall throw stones

each one for a different

animal refugee

and imagine the water

flowing back like a tidal wave

crushing the perfect rows to pieces