In the Bathroom Mirror
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by Ralph Burns He continues to ponder And his wife moves next to him. She looks. They look at themselves Looking through the fog. She has a meeting she says in about Thirty minutes， he has Something too. But still she has Just stepped out of the bath And a single drop of water Has curved along her breast Down her abdomen and vialed in Her navel then disappeared In crimson. Unless they love Then wake in love Who can they ever be？ Their faces bloom， A rain mists down， the bare Bulb softens above the glass， So little light that The hands mumble deliciously， That the mouth opens Mothlike， like petals finding Themselves awake again At four o'clock mid shade and sun. |
