{"id":13243,"date":"2026-08-28T15:25:17","date_gmt":"2026-08-28T14:25:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=13243"},"modified":"2026-08-28T18:36:59","modified_gmt":"2026-08-28T17:36:59","slug":"drought","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=13243","title":{"rendered":"Drought"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"
Image: \u00a9 Charles Eastwood<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

everywhere the land is now taken into drought<\/p>\n

mandatory water shutoffs<\/p>\n

only water your lawns after 6 pm<\/em><\/p>\n

and we let our lawns die<\/p>\n

and neighborhood after neighborhood becomes burned<\/p>\n

and the city gradually loses its color<\/p>\n

until the valley bakes down into a light brown<\/p>\n

and i drive around the city<\/p>\n

and each neighborhood is the shade of brown directly tied to income<\/p>\n

with certain wealthy areas still green<\/p>\n

they just pay each fine and continue to water<\/p>\n

and things get worse<\/p>\n

because the green lawns become a symbol of opulence<\/p>\n

and the working-class neighborhoods of salt lake city become enlivened with rage<\/p>\n

and you’ll see people with bumper stickers against the lawns<\/p>\n

but they’re really against the wealthy<\/p>\n

stickers like one with green grass with a red x through it<\/p>\n

or even one that says<\/p>\n

STOP THE GREEN MENACE<\/p>\n

and it’s just cartoon ceo’s mowing their overlush lawns<\/p>\n

and people protest daily outside the gates of the old families of the valley<\/p>\n

the kind that<\/p>\n

even just fifteen years ago<\/p>\n

were shadows in the workings of statecraft<\/p>\n

but no longer<\/p>\n

and their names are put onto fliers<\/p>\n

that say<\/p>\n

WATCH OUT FOR<\/p>\n

CEO OF LAKE PETROLEUM<\/p>\n

with a picture of the dude in a suit<\/p>\n

and these fliers are everywhere<\/p>\n

i’m driving and finally i get to the wealthy neighborhood<\/p>\n

i want to get into this neighborhood where i hear sprinklers<\/p>\n

while it’s only 3 pm<\/p>\n

and it’s quieter than the rest of the city<\/p>\n

i hear birds<\/p>\n

but there’s tall gates<\/p>\n

and even the gates have non-native foliage draping over them<\/p>\n

and i’m like<\/p>\n

aight<\/em><\/p>\n

and i’m driving home<\/p>\n

and am minorly outraged<\/p>\n

\u00a0they’ve walled themselves off from us<\/p>\n

let’s put them all out to pasture!<\/p>\n

but no that wouldn’t be right<\/p>\n

they’ve already put us out to pasture<\/p>\n

i hate the feeling of being forced to relate to people just based on income<\/p>\n

instead of something normal like whatever<\/p>\n

or like how much grass you have<\/p>\n

i now have an idea!<\/p>\n

i’m so excited i plan it out in my head on the drive home<\/p>\n

i get home<\/p>\n

i wait until evening<\/p>\n

late at night<\/p>\n

like past 5 am<\/p>\n

where i dress in all black because i want to convince myself that this is what i’m doing<\/p>\n

where i drive my car back to where i was earlier in the day<\/p>\n

then comes the hard part<\/p>\n

but luckily there’s a low part in the fence<\/p>\n

that i’m able to dive over<\/p>\n

so i do it and vault over the top and land on<\/p>\n

grass!<\/p>\n

great lengths of green grass!<\/p>\n

like i’m on the other side of the hill!<\/p>\n

it’s a commons area where all the richies can sit and have picnics or whatever<\/p>\n

and i remember that i’m dressed like a robber<\/p>\n

and i look even worse carrying a handheld sod cutter<\/p>\n

so i run into the shadows of a few pine trees<\/p>\n

and i hear a bubbling creek<\/p>\n

a creek!<\/p>\n

curling nicely around a mansionous estate<\/p>\n

a moat!<\/p>\n

with luscious gardens<\/p>\n

and bronze statues of naked cherubs<\/p>\n

and the lawn’s not only perfect<\/p>\n

but it must be cut like every three days<\/p>\n

because the length’s like something you could play golf on<\/p>\n

and i walk to the center of the lawn<\/p>\n

which looks like a fair way<\/p>\n

and i fall to my knees<\/p>\n

and plunge my sod cutter with both hands into the ground<\/p>\n

and even though i’m committing vandalism<\/p>\n

the opulence makes me feel that my cut should be a perfect square<\/p>\n

but i’m unable to cut a perfect square<\/p>\n

i toil and work feverishly to just get a square two-feet raggedy blob<\/p>\n

and i’ve pulled it out!<\/p>\n

and out comes all the dirt with it like a foot deep of earth<\/p>\n

and i bang the earth onto the ground<\/p>\n

but it stays attached to the grass because it’s so moist<\/p>\n

so i lift up the whole hunk of land<\/p>\n

and run back to the fence<\/p>\n

i notice a light turn on in the near distance<\/p>\n

and since someone else’s awake<\/p>\n

i just chuck the grass chunk over the fence<\/p>\n

more like a Frisbee<\/p>\n

and it lands on the other side<\/p>\n

then i clear the fence too<\/p>\n

so now i’m driving somehow now with this useless big patch of green grass<\/p>\n

and it’s not even an even square so it’ll just look like an exaggerated divot<\/p>\n

and it’s dawn now<\/p>\n

and everything’s beginning to become visible<\/p>\n

and it’s sitting next to me on the front passenger’s seat<\/p>\n

and it’s waving a little in the air conditioning<\/p>\n

and the smell of real earth fills the car<\/p>\n

and moist dirt crumbles around the seat<\/p>\n

and it’s just so green<\/p>\n

and then i feel this now<\/em> as a weird now<\/em><\/p>\n

i mean i’m driving a chunk of someone else’s grass to who knows where<\/p>\n

and i see a deer corpse on the side of the road<\/p>\n

and it’s really a fawn<\/p>\n

and it’s buzzing with insects<\/p>\n

and for some reason i stop to take a look<\/p>\n

and i make sure my car’s off the road enough not to get hit<\/p>\n

and i walk up to it with the afternoon sun on my neck<\/p>\n

and i look down and see the fawn<\/p>\n

and i look up again<\/p>\n

and i grab the patch of grass and lift up the fawn\u2019s head<\/p>\n

and put the grass under the fawn’s head<\/p>\n

and lay the fawn’s head down<\/p>\n

gently onto its new pillow of grass<\/p>\n

and i look at the fawn’s head on the grass<\/p>\n

and its eyes are still black<\/p>\n

and intact<\/p>\n

and HUGE<\/p>\n

and how did it wind up here?<\/p>\n

the fawn comes down from the hills<\/p>\n

and strays looking for water<\/p>\n

and parched<\/p>\n

and delirious<\/p>\n

strays into traffic<\/p>\n

this fawn’s wandered<\/p>\n

a stray from nature<\/p>\n

and i’m looking down at those black eyes<\/p>\n

and they look lost<\/p>\n

and sad<\/p>\n

and say<\/p>\n

even before adulthood i know what’s in store<\/em><\/p>\n

and what is in store?<\/p>\n

and i’m staring into the eyes of the fawn<\/p>\n

spots still mainly intact<\/p>\n

everything else begins the journey of decay<\/p>\n

its eyes are black with a film of glass that looks like it’s an astronaut’s helmet<\/p>\n

and i think about the fawn<\/p>\n

and it’s lying splayed out but now with a grass pillow<\/p>\n

and i know its eyes will stick with me<\/p>\n

and how i can’t help but feel<\/p>\n

that the deer dies lost<\/p>\n

even in death<\/p>\n

this is a lost deer<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

____<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Puck Phillips is a heteronym created by Utah-based writer Christopher Newman. Born in the fictional town of Neconish, Wisconsin, Phillips studied English at a nearby college. He taught university courses for several years before leaving to write full-time. He lives with his wife and two dogs in the Sugar House neighbourhood of Salt Lake City.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Image: \u00a9 Charles Eastwood   everywhere the land is now taken into drought mandatory water shutoffs only water your lawns after 6 pm and we let our lawns die and neighborhood after neighborhood becomes burned and the city gradually loses its color until the valley bakes down into a light brown and i drive around […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":439,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[376,441,443],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nDrought - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=13243\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Drought - 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