Wondering, As Frothy Masses of Bubbled Soap Traverse Mine Body
Haunting and haunted,
These visages with lacy, saponaceous curds
Depending and plummeting,
Do I on the pebbled porcelaneous integument
Of the whitish shower floor scrawl.
I wonder, as frothy masses of foamy, bubbled soap
In the shower traverse mine body and ripple and course
Undulant across my sinews, driven by the pound and pour of the
Plunging, cascading cataract of pressurized shower water....
I wonder, I mull and I ponder over the
Accounting, the tally, the sum total of those
Ephemeral faces by soap and pressured water engendered:
Those ghastly and spectral faces which precipitate
Diluted, water-blasted soaps have, in
Soppy, splashy, soap-lashing
Depositions on that pebbled floor atop of which I stand
(Or did when the inspiration for this poetical work mine
Did, whilst erectly bathing, occur to me)
Yet how many multitudes of these
Through the course my myriad bathings and showerings;
How many of those horrid, demonical, haunting and haunted
Physiognomies did I of a moment
Indirectly will, if you will, into being-
Even whilst the shower coursed pluvial and pouring waters thundered all around?
Copyright ©
Douglas Cate
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