She filled
The bath to terminal
depth and added
oils infused
to smell of no one
's rose garden.
After settling into its
warmth she mused
on the virtues
of steel and the unavoidable loss
of petaled scent
in the wet evening.
She decided suicide could wait until the water grew cold.
YOU ARE READING
Small Silver Fish
PoetryA growing work of poetic exploration,this small volume explores life long struggles of a poet groping for evolution.
