Monday, June 08, 2015

a basinful

The sights you have seen:
revealed in morning waking
or beneath accumulated grime.
The tales you have washed away,
testimonies of the night,
laundered from corruption.
by your silent acquiescence.
In the redemption of your waters
the dust of sleeping
has been cleansed
a million times.

have plunged beneath your walls,
medicant irrigation,
bringing back senses.
have gripped the bubbled
salvation of your bounty.
But you are no longer ‘clean’,
you have the scars of age
and the taint of your grimes.

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