This is a rather sad piece. I wrote it some time ago, forgot about it, and rediscovered it this evening. I’m glad that I did.

The Girl in the Tub

I followed the trail of blood
to the edge of the clawfoot tub

and there in the water floated
the smallest girl I’d ever seen,

her smile a crooked glimmer.
I knelt down and sang an ancient

song, one that had been passed
down through my family since the

stars were first lit and the wind
was still just a young breeze.

“Again,” the girl said when I finished.
I reached out for her hand, but she

disappeared, and I was left with nothing
but the water, the tub, and the defeated

bathroom rug upon which I curled and
tried to remember the words I’d just sung.