Bathtime 1962. Poem by Terry Collett

Yiska sat in the bath
and threw handfuls
of soapy water over
her small breasts. She

wished Benny was there
to wash her back or
better still be in the
bath with her and then

they could wash each
other over. She smiled
at the thought. Don't be
too long in there, her

mother called out through
the door. Won't be long
she replied. What would
she do now if he was in

the bath and her mother
outside pacing up and
down the bathroom?
But he wasn't so it didn't

matter. But say he was?
She smiled and lay down
in the bath to rinse off
and then softly laughed.