“There the pump stands…marking the centre of another world.”—Seamus Heaney, “Mossbawn”

Ordered toward that quiet space of snakes, where the yard hose snakes past the mole that lies thrillingly dead in the ant bed, and a puzzle of ivy shadows riddles the cracked cinderblock walls of the house, I followed— without question—the question- marked hose, past each prickly holly bush and a manic rush of insects, to this other world where a spigot handle bloomed out of the pipe in the ground. My father swung the nozzle, pistol-whipping air, hollered, Let there be water! and so there I let water be: three twanged clockwise cranks of the handle, and water flowed like language from my world to that other, to where he stood by the boat, washing the new world’s words: bow, rudder, batten, transom, stern.

HASTINGS HENSEL is the author of a chapbook, Control Burn, and his poetry appears in Cave Wall, 32 Poems, The Greensboro Review, and Birmingham Poetry Review. He is the recipient of the 2014 South Carolina Arts Commission Fellowship in Poetry, and he lives in Murrells Inlet, SC.