Splashes among the splatter of hot water and shampoo.
A speck of the tear-free latter, lathered in thin grey flecks,
slips through
his receding hair.
Preceding their retreat into the air,
countless droplets of the former had waited
- heated, squeezed, and leaking through pipes,
bound together, flowing
causing groaning -
the pipes growing
then
briefly reigning over the dirt and sweat burrowed
in the furrows of his ever-increasing brow,
grey water falls from grace,
diving down into the drain.
It leaves behind a trace,
filling up the place with a cloud.
now
the curtain's flicked open,
I hear him step out, a towel drying
and his subtle sighing at the humidity,
or is it humility toward our conversation?
(I can never recall what we ever discussed, just that the door didn't keep us apart)
He reached for the handle
the door creaked open a crack
I looked up at the mirror
his crooked smile looking back
then
I caught sight of the sleight'd man
trapped in the glass
now
wiped clear by his hand
A fearful idea passed into my thoughts:
The image he's got of himself's slightly altered.
My words faltered watching his switched, stubbled chin
*His lips' starboard grin won't sit right with him,
and he's left unaware of just where his cleft crannies
though he's sure his reflection's his face, it's uncanny -
he is different to me -
the himself that he sees*
Asymmetry revealed to me
all he has known he has even been
is not the man his son has seen
until -
I averted my eyes, as he walked to his bedroom
heard the noise of TV as he watched
and he changed
behind closed doors
...later...
More doors close
distance grows between us,
though our intravenous love keeps us reaching
ever outward toward each other
teaching our open arms to also grow
create a closeness
while letting go
It is an indulgent weakness,
our shared blood is pumped
through slumped shrugging shoulders
the years make us older
/
the tears keep us young
as flexed muscles holding us together bulge
in a great show of strength
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Splashes among the splatter of hot water and shampoo.
A speck of the tear-free latter, lathered in thin grey flecks,
slips through
his receding hair.
Preceding their retreat into the air,
countless droplets of the former had waited
- heated, squeezed, and leaking through pipes,
bound together, flowing
causing groaning -
the pipes growing
then
briefly reigning over the dirt and sweat burrowed
in the furrows of his ever-increasing brow,
grey water falls from grace,
diving down into the drain.
It leaves behind a trace,
filling up the place with a cloud.
now
the curtain's flicked open,
I hear him step out, a towel drying
and his subtle sighing at the humidity,
or is it humility toward our conversation?
(I can never recall what we ever discussed, just that the door didn't keep us apart)
He reached for the handle
the door creaked open a crack
I looked up at the mirror
his crooked smile looking back
then
I caught sight of the sleight'd man
trapped in the glass
now
wiped clear by his hand
A fearful idea passed into my thoughts:
The image he's got of himself's slightly altered.
My words faltered watching his switched, stubbled chin
*His lips' starboard grin won't sit right with him,
and he's left unaware of just where his cleft crannies
though he's sure his reflection's his face, it's uncanny -
he is different to me -
the himself that he sees*
Asymmetry revealed to me
all he has known he has even been
is not the man his son has seen
until -
I averted my eyes, as he walked to his bedroom
heard the noise of TV as he watched
and he changed
behind closed doors
...later...
More doors close
distance grows between us,
though our intravenous love keeps us reaching
ever outward toward each other
teaching our open arms to also grow
create a closeness
while letting go
It is an indulgent weakness,
our shared blood is pumped
through slumped shrugging shoulders
the years make us older
/
the tears keep us young
as flexed muscles holding us together bulge
in a great show of strength
"Trout did another thing which some people might have considered eccentric: he called mirrors leaks. It amused him to pretend that mirrors were holes between two universes" - Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut
