I have this dream

where you haul me

into a house full of

bits i can’t remember

except for plumbing,

and you say wouldn’t it

be funny to spiral every

faucet and leave them all

running! your grin glints like the razor

in the sink and i find myself nodding along,

you take my hand and whiz to the kitchen and

with your quick wrist-flick the water begins, two pillars

streaming the silence, next up is the downstairs loo, now you

allow me the pleasure of twisting, i like the way your eyes fill

as you watch me flood the room, the gush thunders harder like a humming

tune, after that we dash upstairs, you say the bath is a two-man job! a chamber

orchestra of pattering hammers around us as we countdown, finally they’re all on!

you move to the sound of overflow as if it’s a song, i laugh and dance along, but a soggy

realisation taps at my shoulder, i hear the sound of waste, rotten wood, i feel sick with the taste of water-damage, i look downstairs at the rising tide, rising faster, the mess we’ve made, a bubble in my stomach swells the air, searching for an escape if it isn’t too late, i turn to you and find nothing. there are no windows in this room, just a bathtub that can’t hold its purpose.

I wake up and my carpet is damp.

(published in Underachievers: UEA Undergraduate Anthology 2022-2023)