i'm going to collect your words
put them all in a tub
watch them stick to wet skin
swirl as i begin to rub

oh words, dear friend
it hurts to feel you again
maybe if i soak in here long
my head, you'll finally sink in

A faint scent, that of a

wetted perfume, arises from the

body that’s writing there

in a white enameled bathtub

a body shuffled by the sub

way– a pen in hand

not using another purple hand

soap. It ponders on the people’s

purple perfume lathered on their faces

“Smile good, else we’re all ashes”



Wet hair, naked *******

all seen on T.V and billboards

Silence– rarely heard in between

the pen’s strokes. Hands between thighs

purple faces buried there

in a white enameled bathtub.

Water drained, in the middle, drenched bills

Cover up the laughed at body of the economy

Feed her with Monsanto and let her hear Trumpets.



A faint scent arises from the American

Body that’s… drowning there

a silky hand of… blue ribbons of… politics

gripping at her panicked throat!



In a Lyon bathtub paper and pencil, October, 16, 2017

I had just settled in for a nice hot soak.
I slid into the bubbles and opened my coke.
when what to my wondering ears did I hear
but a small playful voice drawing near.

When around the door I saw him appear
I knew in a moment that it was my Dear.
Quickly he approached me only to say
The kids have poopies and need changed straight away.

He stood there smiling with his eyebrow raised
I laughed and sat completely unfazed.
The moments between us were quiet and tense
I was waiting to see what was his defense

It felt like forever but only seconds had passed
When I knew that I would have to get out of my bath
Slowly I stood, shivering and cold
Wanting to put him in a choke hold

I climbed the stairs, naked and wet
Knowing this night, I will never forget.
The morale of the story lies herein
Check on the kids before I begin.

The house was quiet,
kid and spouse asleep.
I lit one candle,
a vanilla scent,
melting onto a pickle jar lid.

Moved the toys
Except of course
the squeaky yellow duck.

I filled the tub like a child.
Is there such a thing
as too many bubbles?
I sunk into the scalding bliss,
an ****** for the heart.

I soaked and sighed and giggled,
took a picture of foamy long legs,
and my toes painted red.

A perfect end
to a seemingly unending night