There’s a leak in my consciousness
where the heavy flows go,
the bury ‘em and the can’t-
the swirled sediment of this world
(as I take it in.)

Until that gelid effluence, trapped
in the elbow of heart,
swells beyond pool,
and every pipe, full to bursting,
breaks into a fugue of requiem–

Slowly the overflow
is over, the roar absorbed
into a sussurus
of sad here now.

It is just the way it is
for some,
the tune borne,
the one they were born
to whistle.



A poem for Play It Again, Sam on With Real Toads, hosted by the wonderful Margaret Bednar (with pictures by her talented daughter–this is not one.)  The prompt I have used was one  about figurative language.


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14 Comments on “Plumbed”

  1. Kip Says:

    This one is fantastic!

  2. brian miller Says:

    cool use of words….sussurus and fugue…in one poem…and gellid…ha…i like how you used the pipes and references in this…

  3. margaret Says:

    a leak in my consciousness. Ha! This is clever and yes, extra credit for hard words 🙂

  4. Anne Says:

    I especially like the first stanza. So much truth in the last one.

  5. There is a limit what a human can bear inside.. The metaphors are carried out most effectively.. Combining sussurus with plumbing is very effective.

  6. claudia Says:

    that is very visible indeed….a leak in my consciousness… really cool use of words k. – and there’s only so much one can carry…

  7. Sumana Roy Says:

    love the layered words woven so tight…” every pipe, full to bursting,
    / breaks into a fugue of requiem” favorite lines…

  8. Your comparison is all the stronger for being an unusual one. I especially enjoyed your word choice, so rich and varied, and the progression of grief as through the waste water pipe.

  9. Grace Says:

    I love how you can turn the pipe into poetic inspiration ~ The overflow, the susurus, sadness of here now – Amazing K ~

  10. charleenm Says:

    Nice use of language. I think I learned a few words here!

  11. hedgewitch Says:

    Figurative certainly, but also graceful, lyric and lush.. I love ‘gellid effluence,” for instance, and of course, ‘fugue of requiem,’ not to mention the final lines which seem to have both perfect balance and symbolic force, like a ballerina in a classic toe stand becomes the swan. You are writing like fire, k. and this one burns even through a liquid steam of emotion.

  12. Happy Memorial Weekend, thanks for visiting…

    you rock.

  13. This is a “jazzy” poem. That’s my take on it, anyway.

    Greetings from London.

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