Mama Takes a Bubble Bath

Mama Takes a Bubble Bath

 

 

Here, wedge of water

slim parcel of time

her body traced by clouds

clotting and pulling apart,

a world adrift.

The porcelain suggests

that she lean back,

but how long her legs reach

this body of birth filling

every space water wants.

 

Mold in the cracks.

Smudges on eyeglasses.

A three-poem soak. Never enough,

or perfect. Here she rubs,

softens herself – pumice to heal,

cloth to nape – as if tuning

an instrument for what song

is expected next.

 

The children come,

stand at the edge,

thousands of tiny bubble explosions

the moment’s metronome,

and try to comprehend

how she is not

on their side.

Published in VoiceCatcher 3. So true today. 

 

 

Wordstock reading with VoiceCatcher

If you are wandering about at Wordstock in Portland (Portland Convention Center, Nov. 8-9), stop by for a reading from the VoiceCatcher anthology authors, 10:30-11:30 am on Saturday the 8th. I will be joined by four other poetry & prose writers. Visit www.wordstockfestival.org for more ticket info & directions.

 

Also…. my poem, “Grounded” appeared in the Sunday Oregonian yesterday! Exactly how I’ve been feeling lately, a little jealous of the birds.