Slowly, I slide the cloth under water
and wash the body
I’d rather do without.
Soapy ripples cake my cheeks
and then are washed away.
Bubbles fleck the hair on my chest
and drip to the rags scattered
about the morning sunlight below.
I knead the washcloth over hips and organs,
sickened by pain,
weakened by desire.
A glance at the window shows
the sun risen over the horizon,
the moon gone down under
Time to move on, I suppose.
Knees are bent and legs given the rub
as sink casts shadow over all.
I wait for the shadow to encompass me
and then I stand.
.
Hastily, I don jeans and then shirt.
I hear the sparrow call outside
and know that a neighbor awaits.
Walking away, I try not to look back.
I know only that a journey begins.
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