OTHER WORLDS: The Water Pump

The dark green water pump,
abutting the northeast corner
of the vegetable garden,
marked the entrance
to the Boys Playground.

Though from it hung
a large tin cup,
often one boy pumped,
while others stooping low,
and
with hands cupped,
caught the sparkling water
pouring from its spout.

The ground,
dampened all around,
drew black wasps
that flitted and alighted
all about.

Sliding one day,
down a rope,
tied to the top
of the sliding board,
my hands filled
with burning intolerable pain.

I ran for comfort
to the dark green pump,
some thirty yards away,
only to find
that splashing cold water
on my hands
doubled the pain.


(November 27, 2001)