Water, water everywhere–

in me,

in you.

I drink a cup of water,

a cup made of mud perhaps,

earth and water

holding water.

As water enters my mouth,

it mixes with the saliva

that makes my mouth water.

I swallow both these waters,

down the esophagus,

coated with a watery mucus membrane,

and the sip drips into the stomach

where watery juices flow in and mix with water.

The digestive stream flows on

into the long canal of intestine,

and the juicy watery mix

is absorbed into the blood,

itself a red stream of salty-watery plasma.

Eventually that drop of water

passes through the filter of the kidneys,

down a tube to the bladder,

where we hold our water,

and then pass water

as it flows out

into air again,

raining into the puddle of the toilet,

where we flush our watery selves away

without noticing

water outside

is water inside

is water we eliminate

is water we drink.

Recirculating lakes and rivers

through the ponds and bogs of the body.