draw a bath.
with crayons?
how does one color water? 
clear does not do justice,
the glisten of droplets on skin.
I’ll draw us a bath, you said, 
and I saw
an illustration.
two shadows 
plunging toes, then legs 
then torsos;
limbs intertwined and
melting slowly to just above
the chins.
you whispered something
into my mouth that I’ve forgotten –
it tasted like rain, though.
my eyes skimmed past ripples
made by movement, 
to watch 
your steady fingers
caress my calves.
a silver ring, promise to
another, fluid like liquid
was cold on my cheek.
I should 
write Crayola, propose
Skin Under Water.

***

Photo by Joel Filipe on Unsplash