lukewarm
when i draw the bath
the water comes out hot,
steaming, and white
i step in one trembling leg at a time
wincing as it burns,
but liking it all the same
the scalding feeling brings me comfort
as i lay my naked body down and
i watch my skin grow red
and i smile,
head resting back against the tub.
i think i'll sit here just for a while
and let the smooth water penetrate me to the densest and darkest bone
heating my blood up from its usual chill
to a screaming boiling point
but suddenly, after only an hour,
my skin has become accustomed to the constant heat
my muscles twitch, invited new sensations of warmth to please show up
but none ever do.
the water's gone lukewarm
i sit silently, willing myself to pretend it's still as hot as i wish it was
but with every movement,
a cold undercurrent brushes up against my leg and sends a little chill through my spine and through my heart
and there's no use in turning on the faucet
for we ran out of hot water long ago
this clawfoot bath
is old and rusty
and it's about time to step out,
to wrap myself up in a robe, warm and dry
but i simply cannot
my limbs will not move
my toes and fingers have wrinkled up into prunes after so many hours in the basin, preparing to remain in the chilled liquid for many more years to come
i can't bring myself to let them down, now can i?
so here i'll remain, and occasionally i'll flick the water off my fingers, droplets landing on the wall and floor.
i watch them drip down the surfaces slowly
leaving tiny trails in the grayish dust that's formed on the once white walls
and i slowly shut my eyes and slip down into the now ice cold water, lapping just barely above my shoulders
i'm settling down for my long and quiet slumber, peacefully submerged in the filth that's been steeping off me
and as a parting rule,
you will never catch me with wet hair.
