Editing poetry: Steam Baths

This is something I imagined once… I believe it was published somewhere but I forget where.
An old man
Levers himself into
The hot bath
With the slowness
Of flowers blooming,
Steam dreamily blurring the room childlike and careless,
Coffee perfectly dripping into an empty pot.
And the lowering of his body
Contains the unspilled passion
Of bursting muscle,
Scalding liquid drifting over the wooden counter,
Flowers exploding along winter’s dark edge,
The old man screaming
For the muscles to do his bidding,
And a teenage boy
Still as ancient ligament,
His chest suddenly,
Tellingly, flushed.

via Editing poetry: Steam Baths.


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