Sometimes I love water more than people

I love fat raindrops pocking the pavements
                               like falling gooseberries

some days I can’t stop saying petrichor
              its three syllables so mysteriously right

surely Dior was thinking of sunlight on the Seine
	as he rippled metres of shot silk
along the cutting tables of his atelier

I love being hydrated   dehydrated   rehydrated

look how sparrows drink
         then hold their throats to the sky 
gargle thanks to the clouds
	how bees sip as if they are meditating on pollen

have you noticed how statues gaze over water
        as if they’ve just spotted a loved one
or are dreaming of home
      how Monet strokes the surface of water to life
                                 as if it’s skin

I would like to make the ocean my kingdom 
                  to rust awhile   peaceful   forgotten wreck
when water loves it will not let you go
      whispering in ancient languages
until you are blinded by salt 
                  don’t know up from down

I like water to flow
		have an aversion to ice 
but love how snow melts on my face
		    a chill baptism

I love the curiosity of water   its stubborn patience
          how it underestimates its power to harm
though maybe it too 
      has nightmares
about flooding and dying glaciers

I want to rewild our tapwater   
                   savour the grittiness of puddles

I love dogs joyful immersion in water-bowls
                                  their messy lapping
how when they play in water they never ask how deep?


No one sits down to listen. The radio voices its concerns.
Sings a little. It churns on regardless. The radio has a night-
time voice. Is passing on vital information. Is listening to
everybody. Is warm to the touch. The radio howls silently.
Repeats itself. Nobody pays attention. No one. The radio is
offering sound advice, a pulse. I iron my skin, file my
eyebrows. I catch the radio softly arguing with itself, in the
mirror. The radio is on in all the rooms, in the kitchen, all
over the house. The alleged time is very credible. No one
even notices the radio is crying now. The radio plays all night.
I wake up and hear my dreams on the radio. One day, I will
lie down all day and listen to the news. Conduit, sing me a
little lullaby.