Sunday, 7 April 2019

A short poem about taking a shower

Water, like hot sleet,
rinses over me,
its cleansing needles
sharpening like love.

I crouch,
lay,
not so much embrace
as am embraced by,
leak my body into,
its liquid sauna,
feel the soughing off
of aches,
tensions
stretching through the years.

I fee the need
to thank everyone who has helped me.


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