There's a shower at the back

of the house

and every late afternoon

after the heat, the river

the mates, the conversations

sweaty on the porch

it's bath time

I pass through the privets

I leave the towel on a branch

the soap

on a small log

chopped flush; a minimal

preparation before making

run

the water

Cold at first

then warmer

comes the one the sun

scorched in the tank

of fiber cement

the whole day

Out in the open air

the amber cane

becomes enchantment,

the daily ritual;

I wash my hair

I lower my straps,

my swimsuit and I watch, almost

with unconscious care

that the sounds are

the usual ones:

some thrush

that takes flight

a gallinule that pecks

the last crumbs

on the grass, that stillness

at dusk

the neighboring houses

and the immeasurable variety

of leaves and branches in the bush

ecstatic, brushing against each other

I soap myself

my back, my shoulders

burn and again the water

they receive placidly,

more sensitive

the un-sunned edge

of the body always in a swimsuit;

the hairs of the vulva whiten

with the silky lather

and the nipples enlarge

under the marks

geometric of the neckline

I open the shower completely

and the flow

falls in brushstrokes

almost freezing it hurries me

out of the lethargy

of breathing;

until I close it and return

to the warmth of the fabrics

to the quietness in the towel

while the water

through the small ditch

perfumed runs

like a relieved sigh

like a loving instant

and its demanding vigil

Nobody knows

nobody witnesses

my afternoon behind

the stream;

a small stone that someone gives

and upon accepting it, it takes

the shape of your hand;

it has no value

it is not valued

it's not even placed

in a display case

of exotic objects;

one lives with little

with nothing

a kingdom is made

Alicia Genovese