poem 282 of a poem a day for 2012

carrying a lantern of desperation  

between the doorbell ringing

and you singing in the shower

the quiet steps

on the double berber rug

to mask its intruder’s gain

of the second floor

you strain beneath the water

cascading in its manufactured

soft spread against your skin

and a fleeting thought enters

like a winged insect

a thought of hard water minerals

being good for you

or at least might have been

before the proliferation of antibiotics

changed our immune systems

but then that thought drifts away

and the quiet returns

stealing down the hallway

from where you left

the door slightly ajar

the radio is on downstairs

and Chopin’s nocturne is playing

streets chum their veins

with the exhausts

that race the red to green lights

outside the old glass

still wanting

in its slow tide

to fall back as sand

you brush pat the water

beading against your skin

and wrap yourself in terry

peer out the window

and see the quiet

beneath

the yellow glow

is everywhere

clinging to

where humanity goes

to find itself

when leaving

the doors alone

EJR ©