claw foot

by amy sharp


You could often find her in the bathtub.
Flat out on her back.
Feet up on the tile.
Ears in the water.
The room dark.
Thinking through the heat.
She'd tell the bathtub her secrets.
Her worries.
All the small things.
Oils and potions and stick your toe in the faucet.
Don't go down the drain.
Don't worry about the floor.
Just put your face underwater.
She opens her eyes.