the bath faucet was crying so i,
being the polite person i am,
asked it why, what was wrong

it responded in sorrowful drips,
mournful wails on the porcelain basin

i grew upset and demanded it
speak to me, tell me what was wrong –
more gurgles, the slow procession
of dirty water spiraling down the drain

i was frantic, panicked
pleading and begging it talk to me,
just please fucking tell me what happened to you

the trickle subsided after i poured
all my pills into its belly
appeased, i thought, the tears had ceased

but a scarlet drop fell from its mouth
which bloomed into a torrent of blood
and proved to stain the tub a lovely shade of crimson.