Bubble bath, for adult and child

An opening forms 
where my body lays poised, 
the bubbles retreating aside
like dunes revealing my hands 
cupped like a mannequin
and my limp floating mid-arch,
uvular, and drowned in speech
below swirling soap, 
powdered snow, frayed by wind,
hiding those wide eyes
caught dead when most alive, 
and their screaming, open 
palms against the glass,
holding up.
  
You’d think 
bubbles should be the quietest of things, 
but try to put your head into the hive 
and listen to the opera they sing. 
Frozen in time, deteriorating, 
changing, out of sight. 
I wonder, too, if clouds 
make the same music of these mounds. 
So next time I’m on a plane, I’ll listen loud
frayed by wind with wide eyes and
open palms against the glass,
holding out. 
Creative Commons License
Bubble bath, for adult and child by Thomas Baruzzi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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