Wild Goose Poetry Review, No 33, Fall 2017
DIRTY DEEDS
My fear of drowning began
when grandfather stepped
into the tub with me
did his dirty deeds
with my seven year old body
tossing me backwards
like some worn out Barbi
when finished
grasping for the tub’s edge,
mouth and nose filling
as he stood
Thankfully, I’ll be gone
when the ice caps melt
and avoid this repeat
of grandfather’s shadow looming
Wild Goose Poetry Review 