The tap doesn’t close properly.
Drops of water
hang
and fall like saliva.
Each drop
touches
the water differently.
They trace circles where they land.
I shampoo the tangled hair
of memory
and fold together
like a nasturtium in a pond.
Winter’s sliced
the moisture
from my eyes and hope
has sunk like stone into beds of never.
Water is a good place to hide,
a quiet asylum
where I’m just a smudge, a squiggle in the steam.
Candy Tothill -- candy@designandpromotion.com
-- has had work appear in the 2River View, Get Underground, Litnet
Magazine, Megaera Best of 5 Years, The Pedestal Magazine and Unlikely
Stories. She’s a Canadian and Portuguese citizen with a Hon.
B.A. in art history and political science from The University of
Toronto, and currently lives in Lund, Sweden, studying creative
writing at Malmö University. She resides in a small student
apartment with my Swedish husband, Benny, and their dog, Conan.
All
work on Identity Theory -- with the exception of the public-domain
classics -- is copyright its original author. The site is best viewed
with the most recent version of Internet
Explorer.
