The Rite of Water
When she goes,
he misses the rite
of water.
Before he counts
her morning pills—the rite
of pills is a separate ceremony—
he pours one long
glass of bright water,
careful as an altar boy.
Then ferries
her long bottle. Fills
it slowly and sets the seal
This is a small
but essential rite
and when she leaves
his hands miss the task.
When their house
is empty, he worries
that when she’s not
home, she’ll wake up
somewhere thirsty.
Mark J. Mitchell has been a working poet for 50 years. He’s the author of five full-length collections, and six chapbooks. His latest collection is Something To Be from Pski’s Porch Publishing. A novel that includes some poetry, A Book of Lost Songs is due out next Spring. He’s fond of baseball, Louis Aragon, Dante, and his wife, activist Joan Juster. He lives in San Francisco where he points out pretty things.
