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.