Watersick

Maybe it's not water. Maybe she's born with it.

The damage of thirst is measured in days. You can’t survive more than a week without water. She was three days in the desert, stranded. It’s been 3,979 days since Flint has had clean water.

Convince yourself the rim of the table exists as a living condition for all this parching, of all of that hiding liquid, it is watersick. My mouth has been flooding every day since May. The cloying metaphor of climate change. The cloying viscosity of the wet it is. It spills and spills and pills and spills.

Nothing taken for granted, just taken.