The Lead Tank of the Laurel Walk

Before the time they used my room to store apples, collect dfrom those crooked trees now wading waist deep at the garden end in frilly, white capped waves of cow parsley. I know all this because the floor boards show wherever they had missed one as it turned to mush and left a round stain on the wood. That lead tank, that disgusting almost store of syrupy black water, is where kit my brother slipped or threw himself to see if that would make our father like him more. As for myself, i only think of how to stand upright, with water hardening one second round my ankles and the next uprooting me as though i had no purchase on the world