In Remembrance

Abstract

You clutch the white porcelain Edges of the bathtub Wary as you lower your body Torso shuddering at the coldness Eyes squeezed like oranges Waiting for me To pour tepid water Upon your snowy brow. How many times did your tall shadow Bend over to bathe me? I recall the consuming clouds of bubbles You blew, the ones that shrouded What (you said) I wouldn’t understand. Through streams of mist you hid me Knowing that nobody else would. Your callused hands Glided over my plump silky body Feeling it grow Watching it blossom As I played with squeaky ducks. I was four. You are fifty-four. Now you appear as a mountain Through morning mist— Your snowcap melts Streams down skin Draped like a loose mossy cloth Over a rugged terrain Of elbows, shoulders, collarbones. Your breasts protrude like ledges Where nipples Hang like wildflowers. Your body bends, A bloated abdomen Folds over thin thighs. Limp legs Extend as well-traveled roads. The legs still hold you firm, But the ridges, they soon collapse Crashing down your snowy peaks Crumbling the flowers, Falling— But there is nothing there to support you. Except me— Through sudsy bubbles And dense streams of foam I rub my smooth hands Over the ridges Grab the crevices Water the wildflowers And lift myself (lift you) up. Watching as you, yourself, Cupped in my palms, Fall, crumble, disappear From your mountain And into my awaiting rivers. You melt away. I still reach for you.