A climate change poem for today by Imtiaz Dharker

Hand shaking on the stop-cock, she looksat the X, the warning cross,

the water-tap unlocked, its padlock cracked.Breath hacks in the throat, Check your back.

Turn it on and an anxious mutter swellsto thunder in the plastic bucket. Don’t spill it.

Fill it to the top. Lift to the hip, stop,balance the weight for the dangerous walk

home. Home.Don’t lose a drop.

From the police chowki across the tracka whistle, a shout. Run. Don’t stop. Don’t slip.

A drag at the hip. Hot, hot underfoot. Water slopsup and out in every direction, over the lip,

over her legs, a shock of cool, a spark of light.With her stolen piece of sky, she has taken flight.

Behind her, the shouters give up. She puts downthe bucket. The water stills.

She looks into it, looks up to where the blueis scarred with aimless tracks.

Jet-trails cross each other offbefore they die out, a careless X.