Prick of the Spindle: Poetry: Sloat: Faucet Song

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© Cynthia Reeser

Faucet Song
by Sarah J. Sloat

The faucet is the saddest instrument,
its only song: de-plete, de-plete.

All night, its little fists ball up and fall.

Dud percussion makes
a shudder of the sink,

makes the soap bar blink
from the milk film of its dish.

A twist gives up the suck of it.

Or stroke its throat, and catch
your long hand looming.

Sarah J. Sloat grew up in New Jersey, and after university lived in China, Kansas and Italy. For many years, she’s lived in Germany, where she’s an editor for a news agency. Sarah’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Barn Owl Review, Caffeine Destiny, Court Green, Bateau and Front Porch, among other publications.