Poetry

Diversion

Rod Usher

Water won’t be told,

having all the answers:

spill, overflow, current

sluice, level, torrent

farmsaving phreatic.

Today, it’s bellowing

Inundate! down our track

dust-and-lizard all summer

but from deluging skies

a dangerous drunk.

 

Offered options

that don’t mention uphill

bottle or dam

water is sometimes persuaded

so here I am, outside-in

as cold rain meets sweat.

I dig and call, cajole

eventually it comes

barking into diversion

scenting the rock-rolling creek.

 

I squelch to the generator

umbilical cord it to loud life,

peel to skinsmoke in the kitchen,

hit up the shower’s hot needles.

 

Water won’t be told

but sometimes will sidestep

rather than kick arse.