for Mike M., local alchemist

Back in the wonder-time

that built this house, a sage

intoned, “Things fall apart”

and lo, things did. To wit:

the hundred-year-old plumbing

whose galvanized gray heart

got silted up with the seasons,

brewing by chimic spells

a calculus of trouble.

Now, to the day’s ablutions,

our pipework fails to tender

more than a chilly dribble

so the ordeal begins.

We come at last to the crunch

as chisel and drill unveil

the hidden depths of error,

the kind that starts the story

in every fairy tale.

Summon the elements!

Let perilous spells be sung

to Air that whacks us, moaning

from the awful wound in the wall,

and Fire, the wild blue tongue

of a blowtorch poised for joining

new copper, racked from the Earth

for these bright arts. Come, Water;

come, gushes, braids, and sprays!

Let baths and showers resume —

and feel more magical now,

at least for a couple of days.