WATER TO RINSE: a poem...
WATER TO RINSEFrom the tub surface, water streams down in rivulets.
Drops collide, form together and separate.
They fall across my extended legs; a canvas of skin to cover.
Heat rises in my knee caps and to my toes.
The water is an unknown painter and draws with the color of red.
But I am blanketed by the degree.
Such a small frame I am I notice.
Remembering at five with a sponge bath and a rubber ducky.
Then, I sweep my soapy hand across my breast.
I am a woman, creating bubbles on my epidermal layered heart.
Counting the years the last time someone took their time to make love to me...
And the genuine moment I let them.
So petite I sit as the shower head towers above me.
I look up, closing my eyes to let the steamy water hit my face.
I see Cocoa Beach, wild waves and the thunderous blow that pushes me back to the shore.
Opening my eyes mid-stream as hydrogen and oxygen sting across my pupils,
Enjoying the sensation like a kid banishing goggles to explore the true nature of the pool.
A rub down across my shoulders ensues by the pelting rain that I not only sense inside this bath,
but hear also outside my apartment window.
In a half hour, I've been engulfed in a heated womb.
Taking me to the lake day. I was in a cocoon, sleeping in a canoe under the hot Florida sun.
I am showered. I am clean, but I sit still and listen.
Like a school fish frenzy, the water splashes up, down, across, all around.
I breathe in the calm and imagine the aroma of those rose petals,
placed years ago in another tub to wash away tears of heartbreak.
Now I've got myself a new tub with a glorious waterfall,
but no fall I will take as I am safe.
So when I rose, turned off the water and stood naked,
I felt rinsed and fully understood the beating of my own heart.
Johanna Vanderspool
February 15, 2011
posted by Only The Lonely @ 12:08 AM
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