Down the Drain
I seem to spend my life
Dangling the bath-plug over the hole;
Moving it up and down
Like I'm teasing a rotweiler.
My side-down head watches it
Be let go and fall to the right,
Filling the hole,
As a child watches the news on the TV
That another genocide is done
That another dictator has won.
It feels odd to choose to do things this way,
But there's something right in
Being out of clothes
Just shower water.
I close my eyes and it's humid rainfall.
A warm sprinkling to chuff me off to sleep
And in no time it will build up in the bath-tub
To the intensity of death.
It's so right I even assume my fetal position.
But I'm still awake by the time
It has reached the corner of my mouth
And the tear-drop shape of my nostril
And I sit up again wiping the failure from my eyes.
No time was too quick.
It appears though that, despite tries
As hard as my heart, my underwater scream
Ends in an airy gasp
Stolen out of your mouth.
I seem to spend my life
Getting out of your bath
And telling you that I hope the water bill isn't too much.
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Comments about this poem (Down the Drain by Sandy Player )
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