If I will shut my mouth

 A moan of pleasure

escapes

them, our neighbours,

after the patriarch across us

slapping, shouting man commands my silence

and I turn the corner of the house

shamefully crunching an unspoken protest

between my teeth like pebbles.

Some seconds that devour entire moments

around them, if there were tears they are not memorable.

The question was where do we get our water from

two aqueducts: one in the valley, one in the hills

does the water flow to us or is it pumped up, that is the question

crucial, at that moment

the answer fundamental to establish

why are we without water?

For us, there’s me

probably unfit

to represent The Family

I stand my ground

before the door to our house

share my knowledge

too little? Incorrect?

and listen for more:

we have no water one aqueduct must be broken

I twitter:

water does flows to the people up the hill

the aqueduct above us must be running still

I listen and again:

we have no water one aqueduct must be broken

I speak up, for us, repeat myself

in reply the patriarch asks

if I will shut my mouth

already

AAAHH

he groans as I swallow

my lips between my teeth

the others echoing him

bleating their assent

without a word being spoken

And they echo on

the moan and the unsaid.