everyone in the room is representative of the world at large
by Catherine Wagner

In the bath this morning I saw
gauzy shadowed showercurtain
 slanting into the water.
 My nipple rising to the surface
  laddered the image; similarly,
       the cone of breath from my nostril
       shirred it, as the blades of a mixer
  bloom batter in wrinkling circles.
Also, I saw
my stomach gray under the water
     and my silvery
breasts. I tried to let my head float
     can’t quite let one’s head
 go. That linebreak is coy.
I’d added eucalyptus
to the bath, three drops of it
and entering the bathtub smelt it
much too strong—
in the bath a moment and I couldn’t smell it.
I don’t know what it was like in the bath
any more. I made a silver-gelatin print
and that’s not how it was.
In the bath, in the bath, in the hammock in the bath,
Martin still on phone.