Hexagon-Tiled Bathroom Floor
Small white face
cheek by jowl with six
so like you they could be you,
joined & kept apart by careful grout,
we’ve met before, you and your thousand
sisters close as thin-walled honeycomb,
bathroom floor the little theater of childhood
where I shook, soaked overalls around my feet
while Mother cleaned me with her rough cloth
and I stared as tiles went in, out,
rose, fell as if they were breathing,
my mind between, where nothing touches ––
Mother’s implacable grimace
still with me, stored bee-food
waiting for the future
where I, too, stood aloof from love.