Mess

The woman covered in sandstorm robes

bent slightly to pull rope and motivate her bucket skyward.

It took all the strength in her arms

and inspired an ache in her thigh.

She clenched her jaw and breathed in preparation for

one last exertion

and falling backward, the woman saw the vessel rise

and sway

and spill across stone, sand, and cloth

before diving again, invisible, into the well.

She remembered that when one wrestles deep water,

one should expect to make a right mess.