Strange Water

This city’s tap tastes like metal—

a sharp, unkind edge cutting through thirst.

I sip and remember softer springs,

the smooth pull of water from my home.

Late night, kitchen light dim, the glass

catches faint reflections of a stranger’s face.

We talk, but the water’s bite reminds me

that bodies carry place, even in silence.

I swallow the cold, unfamiliar flavor,

a quiet map of pipes and forgotten streams,

while outside, rain drums a rhythm

I don’t know how to follow yet.