Spartan Bath

Separate spigots.

Chain and stopper. 

Light switch in the hall.

Reflection in a compact won't do.

I take the liberty to hang a mirror

near the jamb, pull my hairdryer cord

indulgently under the door.

Life can be too clean; I apply war paint,

mess with your modest towels,

bestow Cherokee mementos.

Lipstick graffiti.  Voodoo.  

I dead man's float in your tub;

leave my soap on the edge.

Feathers on your floor.

tk/April 2014

R.A.D.'s very best read to date...

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Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas 

It develops in the bath;

smears mirror steam,

births metallic

in crumpled waves

of toothpaste tube.

I watch it thrash;

to cling to others,

push them under

and climb on top

in order to be rescued.

It does not drown;

settles under gelatin lids,

struggles to evaporate

before the fixer

dodges and burns.

tk/November 2013 

Excellent, thoughtful read by R.A.D. Stainforth...in his black and white world...

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