The Bath Poem by Gadarowski Michael
The Bath
Rating: ★5.0
Beads, water, wet
Running down mountains of flesh,
Into a warm sea,
Whose white porcelain banks
Rise up to ridges surrounding,
Supporting soap, plastic, and elbows,
Above which hangs humid atmosphere
So thickly quiet a distant dogs barking
Barely breaks through.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
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5/1/2024 9:27:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
