[10] "When Bathtimes Come"

When Bathtimes Come

by Deidre Price

Ten fingers spread wide with wonder

held a nine-month belly,

a world in the middle of me,

heaved it up and over

after two large legs

into manmade rain.

Puddle turned pool.

Bowing into my second self,

hands found hamstrings

then a porcelain ledge.

I lowered my selves

into a shallow silence.

Leaning back, I saw streams

the color of tears, tiny continents

on the still of my stomach.

…

When bathtimes come,

I remember these days:

some dreams, half submerged,

but both our heads clearing the water.