During the Bath
A poem by Bracha K. Sharp

During the Bath

In the bath,
I drew the water
Nearer to me, in little waves—
My feet looked warped, so small,

But I worried what would
Happen—would I see the
Rain today, will the wind come
Freezing down on us; how will

We go on, when the trees
Have lost their leaves?
Then the bath did not waver,
When I looked at its body
And touched the sides,

And I drew the water to me,
In swells, like mountaintops,
Which were my knees and I
Thought about the architect

Who had made this bath,
Or the people who had
Lived here, long before us,

Had inhabited this space,
Worked here, slept here,
People, too, who had taken
A bath and seen the trees from

The window, people, too,
Who had inhabited a
Space.

About the Author:

Bracha K. Sharp was published in the American Poetry Review, the Birmingham Arts Journal, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, Wild Roof Journal, and Rogue Agent, among others. As her writing notebooks seem to end up finding their way into different rooms, she is always finding both old pieces to revisit and new inspirations to work with. She is a current reader for the Baltimore Review. www.brachaksharp.com @BrachaKS_writes

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