Bathwater

My bathwater is a brine of salt and soap

It churns then stills and I sigh to sail away

I sigh for refuge of water and warmth

So I sink below the surface

Through the moonstone and its flecks of gold

My languid limbs dream softly

But they do not find gold

Chalky white soap circles my wrinkled toes

Scraping my skin, ebbing to devour

I bubble to the surface and for a moment

I think I’ve found paradise in a lukewarm milky sea

But it has gone cold

This resting place of dirt and decay

We become one, the water and I

As we silently slip down the drain

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