I sit in a summer tub and remember
baths shared with my mother,
how she plugged the overflow leak,
washcloth wrapped terry-turban,
around the face of the steel drain,
the feel of her long, lean, unshaven legs
pricking my smooth pink underbelly,
the bitter-clean taste of no-tear shampoo
and the simple metallic brine of a baptism
in hard water.
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