Spaces
Sometimes, when I look at the bathroom floor
I just see a floor.
Sometimes, when I look at the bathroom floor,
I see the pattern of the tiles.
A plain, industrial pattern,
Common in apartments and offices everywhere.
Cold tiles arranged to represent a warm basket,
Tan lines in one direction,
Cream in the other.
Earth tones that cradle our feet
As we splash through our days.
Sometimes, when I look at the bathroom floor,
I see the pattern of the tiles.
A stolid, unimaginative pattern,
Common in hotels and gas stations everywhere.
Cold tiles arranged to represent a basket,
And, between the warp and weft, spaces.
Lightless squares, portholes,
Doors into depths we are meant to ignore,
Or descend to, at our peril.
Sometimes, when I look at the bathroom floor,
I see spaces.
M. Anne Vespry
© 1998
