Waiting for the Bath to Fill
Waiting for the Bath to Fill
Lauren Newton
July 2021
I looked in the mirror, and who did I see?
The beauty of the world that swallows me.
The mirror’s been smudged, but not by me.
The bright bruises pulse, aching for company.
Waiting patiently for the mirror to feel,
The smudges laugh loudly to prove they’re real.
“I’ll freeze,” said the mirror, in blinding rage.
The heat was so hot, it rippled a wave.
Bubbles burst as the mirror begs to be dried.
The chaos is blinding, a storm’s compromise.
The calmness of color now thumps in pale pink.
The mirror tells me, “your bath is complete.”