Sometimes
I am Narcissus
Standing in the shower,
leaning against cold white tile,
I watch the pool down by my feet
whirl and swirl itself,
like some Bordeaux flirting with glass lips.
The metal-grate drain guzzles this waterpool, belching occasionally
but I do not complain;
water can get boring,
the same way breakfast and sunsets can grow tiresome.
Truly, water is a terrible hobby;
I am far more interested in this body
now getting slick and soapy,
poised in slippery invite.
Reaching,
I reflect upon offspring
and fruition
and how great it would be
if a buttercup daffodil, white and yellow,
were to sprout from the drain.
Copyright © 2002 Ben Purkert
