The Bathe Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

As I stripped off the rag
My peel to the piercing breeze
With its blows descent, I felt that
Winter blizzard. A leap to redemption
To apply the foam to my frame
The pulse so repulsive to the rinse
In the vessel though afresh was the
Sentiment, outraged with emotions
Of disgust as the ordure dirt
Greased off, posted a smile to the face

To step under the shower
With the splash from the passions, its
Impact evoked a sensation equated
To that of sacrilege, a conversion
By the fiend to grace the fate
Oh it did seeped leaking thru
All the air poles* with the moist
To wipe off the wet
Got bruised, blood exuded
To stain the cloth - was hurt.