a damp torch

   
   
   
   
I wanted to feel you    
the way the water    
enveloped me in that    
old cast iron tub    
when I was sick earlier    
this year    
,    
   
how the potted plant    
in the window    
beside me    
soaked up sunlight;    
   
all encompassing    
soothing warmth,    
silent promises    
of safety.    
   
memories    
like movie reels    
of childhood bath times    
when I could almost    
swim the length    
turned with the    
attempt-at-distraction pages    
that got a little damp.    
   
I wanted you to    
want to be there    
   
even if we both knew    
you weren't really
mine to wish
it for.    
   
ultimately    
the stereo crooned about    
potted plants and    
pruney fingers    
as I thought about    
tubs formerly owned    
by the now deceased    
while the water drained.