I wrap my head in a towel
breathe through the damp fabric
slow my heart
sit on the edge of the tub
the lip of a clawfoot
like a highwire
I hear tightening and loosening
a muffled hum
the porcelain creaks
I am a child in bubbles
floating on my back
ears gurgling
looking at the ceiling
the dirt in the faucet
green and orange and white
the feeling passes
the water grows cold; I
lay the towel on my shoulders
2011
love it! so evocative, I really see and hear it
ReplyDeleteIt's true. Your words have come alive. Keep digging, XO.
ReplyDeleteThank you both! Bringing out the sense details pulls more of me into a piece, which probably explains why I resist it so much. I appreciate the encouragement :)
ReplyDelete