Irrigation Poem by Susan Lacovara

You run hot and cold
A showerhead's dousing
Over my aching thoughts
Your words, sometimes sudsy
Full of foamy cream to caress
My skin with silken sweetness
Only then, to wash down the drain
When you've cleansed your own desires
From the grime and crust
Of a long day spent longing
Missing my mouth, my touch
And turning elsewhere, lips to be wetted
You run hot and cold
A garden hose left on
Haphazardly drenching
A newly turned garden
Leaving behind puddles
I will undoubtedly have to jump
You, making mudpie promises
That dry up and harden
In the summer sun
You run hot and cold
A leaky faucet
Someone neglected to fix
Leaving the endless monotonous dripping
As to echo the waste of watered down love