The shower is a safe place.
A place to run and hide.
Mine I take regular with the clock that’s
Stopped at 6.45.

The shower is a place out of time.
Condensation fogs the unit;
Soothes its way down my lungs:
I don’t even have
To look in the Showershave mirrors
If I don’t want.
(Bad Feng Shui?)

Hiss, hiss,
Fade to subconscious,
Fade to black,
And a creaking skull bows
Before the showerhead.

The shower is a place out of time.
All mine. I never knew white tiling
Could be so interesting.
Or the grout that steadfastly fills
The gaps between.

The trickle of wet heat on skin.
I just wish
I could wash away all sin
Before someone taps in.

View fhmc's Full Portfolio