Bath

14 Apr

Hot, hot, hot steam releases

weeks of dot-the-i-and-cross-the-t

kinda days, soaring up to the ceiling

swirling soon down the drain.

Hot, hot, hot steam fills

me with yes-I-can and what-if-that

kinda thoughts, bubbling into consciousness

sudden and welcome. Some taste

like banana creme. Some slip away.

Hot, hot, hot steam hisses

on the surface of the water,

making me whole.

National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

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