Ophelia in the Bathtub
Pose me there: goose-bumped in the porcelain.
My palms are under-bellied, cupped to catch
the coldest face beneath. The current swarms
to emptiness. Undressed, I feel it come
and hold me there, dare me to poise myself.
Some history convulses here and now
it’s river-bound. I float and bathe and sink
in what’s surrounding. Heated, water drains.
If I would die with my full face beneath.
If water opened up and took the last
selfish inside. If only mouths could gape
so wide to let the others lick the red.
My wet body face down and far too full.
Dare me to grasp and cup the coming air.
illustration by robert trudeau