Meditation short poem

Photo by Moyan_Brenn

When everything has gone still,
piled in close, comes the terrifying
march of my heartbeat, I remember

I was seven and my body fit
full length in the bathtub
delicious game of climbing inside

porcelain dry and water
frigid from the tap, rattling
in the tiled room filling every space

level rising and warming my skin
heat of the water leeching
into the icy slick white tub

blue green water massaging
my cheekbones filling my ears
hiss and tickle of air escaping

forgetting for a time my smooth
body as yet unsullied by my bad
right hand, almost afloat

eyes closing as the water cooled
to body warm and my interior
noises rose: breathing, swallowing

my heart below it all as emperor
pushing against my eardrums
vibrating my eyelids, dedicated

to keeping me alive, forty hard
squeezes a minute, this dirty boy
so unlikely to think about nothing

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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