to wash away the mud of yard work.
Near my tub a house plant
in a red clay vase. Its tongues
tilt to lick light.
A hand held mirror
my eyes under drooping soffits,
jelly of the middle. Any ordinary soul.
Like Narcissus gazing in a pond—long as the wind is still
and carp don’t jump to bite an ear.
Pour of hot water
fills the room as I sink into my bath.
A friend visits in a dream. She extends her hand
Orphans know each other well
Step onto a rug with me
slippery wet skinned—all gone with a swipe.