draw a bath.
with crayons?
how does one color water?
clear does not do justice,
the glisten of droplets on skin.
I’ll draw us a bath, you said,
and I saw
an illustration.
two shadows
plunging toes, then legs
then torsos;
limbs intertwined and
melting slowly to just above
the chins.
you whispered something
into my mouth that I’ve forgotten –
it tasted like rain, though.
my eyes skimmed past ripples
made by movement,
to watch
your steady fingers
caress my calves.
a silver ring, promise to
another, fluid like liquid
was cold on my cheek.
I should
write Crayola, propose
Skin Under Water.
***
Photo by Joel Filipe on Unsplash
