Baths have been forbidden
for ten days. Showers permitted
not long after surgery, but
baths were taboo, proscribed,
verboten. Unsure what to do
with this sudden wealth, first
there was reading. The prose
unremarkable, but the story
gripping. Then, watching
a show, while tending to feet
darkened by chemo (hyper-
pigmentation, it’s called) and
by garden soil that found its way
past flimsy shoe barriers.
Soaking and pumicing and
sugar scrub, and now these
feet are soft and smooth,
ready for kisses, should any
be offered. The bald scalp
has been washed as well,
dried and lotioned, and now
the faint trace of stubble has
a fuzzy halo, inviting touch.
Showers are refreshing, but
baths are seductive. Tonight,
maybe another bath, maybe
with wine and chocolates. I
will wrinkle into a raisin; you
will know me by my wrinkles,
soft and numerous and lush.
*****