Poem: Sudden Illness

Not to worry, I'm all right . . . it's the water's gone to hell and the toilet's got but one flush.

Sudden Illness No water, that’s just the way it is The tap turned on with expectation So American, but this is not America, the spigot blindly hisses nothing Damn, no shower, dishes go unwashed, unshaven, the one flush already gone The toilet becomes a silent enemy for hours, maybe days, unknown time True civil service, this expecting water, heat or light or elevators up and down Utility deprivation, reminder of a captive life, A fifth floor jail, the sentence undetermined So I write and try not to need to pee, think of other things, try faucets, betting against myself, expecting dry and getting it, cursing as the hours stretch A day, then two and compromise Hauling buckets, agreeing to terms, balancing desire against necessity Each a minor victory over circumstance Hand-fill the toilet tank and flush, Stove-heated water for a shave Nothing more than alteration of routine, it works, I work and life goes on Like a Christmas gift out of season, suddenly it’s back, rusty and spitting, then running clear and cheered at Health regained, after sudden illness

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection CORNER OF MY MIND available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.