Oct/Nov 2005 Poetry Special Feature |
To clean or dry by rubbing
In the hemisphere
Of artificial water
I wash away
The me and you
With thistle soap
For skin and hairA white towel
Around my waist
I return to find
The us still heaving
Indignant like ivy
Torn from its placeI wipe my skin
Like a mirror
It reflects the one
Who isn’t me