She scrubs the bathtub with bleach.

In here, the conduit intensifies-
though dull, without inspiration.
I love the sound of water,
any time, any form.

Last night, the vent bubbled
when water butterflied into steam.
We all slept through it,
teeth grinding, saliva moving.

Now the smell of chemicals lights the air.


Filed under poetry

2 responses to “thought/moment

  1. Thanks. I like it, too, in an understated, “why did I write this?” type of way.

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