Washtime

A bathtub
in an old plantation house
tells of wealth and pretense and privilege,
with its ornate claw feet,
tarnished hardware and deep basin;
of languid afternoons
with steamy bath water,
rose petals
on a gently undulating surface,
and antique perfumes in the air;
the affluence of the woman
who bathed in it,
with her ebony-skinned servant
to tend to her needs, her whims…
the slave woman wishing
she could bathe…
slip into the hot waters
and just wash away
the dirt the grime
the agony
of her existence