Bathtime Poetry

I miss baths like you would not believe. Hell, I miss warm showers like you wouldn’t believe. This is from the fall of 2005.

this bathtub has been too shallow
for almost a decade now

but i languish, steaming
(reminder of blue baboon butts and bamboo)

knees, breasts, alabaster archipelagos
volcanic nipples in passionflower pink.

i pretend to be a fountain
practice misting water
like alcohol
to someday be set aflame

i am first mermaid, siren
then a fish—my mouth filled warm sweet
i wonder if sea turtles breathe?
(and then i practice my stroke.)

the light bends my fingers
longer, more elegant
than when inhibited by lack of buoyancy

i wish to hear the music
of each droplet leaving my fingers

of the clinks in the pipes

and the sounds of my mother doing dishes

almost twenty
and i still miss my rubber ducky.

Bathtime Poetry

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