The silver sound of water when it falls
against itself at once invigorates
as it consoles, and drops like little balls
of light splash upward as it penetrates
the depth already formed within the bath.
It seems the silver sinks into my hand
and also bounces – water washes wrath
away, massages me, and when I stand
it slides from me, a lovely liquid slip
that travels down my skin to kiss the drain.
The music shivers till the final drip
and makes a medicine I can’t explain,
but I am parched and tired and deluded
until by water I’m reconstituted.