BAPTISM

Under the surface everything is different;

this is true of many things.

The steam & the splash & the naked skin hurts me.

Where there is water there are painful memories of

confessions, indiscretions, & a broken little boy

washing the blood from his broken bodied sister.

Mother used to bathe us together;

Washing our hair, & rinsing the shampoo out

by pouring & refilling a styrofoam cup with the

water we bathed in...

All this while I screamed that the soap hurt my eyes.

The soap must have hurt her that day,

as it washed over the bleeding places...

She must not have felt it...

But I did,

just as surely as she felt the cold sharp scrape of the razor,

as the blood fell down from my arms in thick ruby rivers.

Those who frolic in hot water...

Those who hurt the silent daughter...

Those that most refuse to see...

Most are political...

Most hypocritical...

Most are not cynical...

Most are not me.