Eyewitness
If that bar of soap could talk
it would tell you how:
the son daydreaming
creates a cloud of suds
so his rubber ducky
disappears momentarily in the spumy ocean
the daughter seven years his senior urgently
lathers up and rids her face of any grease or dirt
that causes those vile zits
the father comes home late every Wednesday
and rigorously scrubs
with the assistance of that bar
the lipstick three shades too pink to be his wife’s
off his neck and chest
and
the mother who preaches to her children to
wash their hands with soap and warm water
so they stay healthy and safe
rinses away the dirt from her petunias lodged
under her fingernails and
wishes it were that simple
