running water

i have to 
confess that
i leave the
water running when
i get ready by
the bathroom mirror--
the quiet hush keeps
me company-- comforts
me-- i have never
seen a real 
waterfall but i assume
it is something like
this-- i practice
my voice in 
the mirror-- 
bathrooms were designed
to reflect voices--
when there's no one
else at my house
i can say anything--
i say i my name--
taste testing it's 
nuances-- i sing
fragments of songs--
sometimes hymns--
that's the thing
about being
once catholic--
you're never 
actually ONCE
catholic-- the
hymns come back to 
you when you most
want to be secular or
an atheist or a pagan--
here i am in 
my boxers letting
myself sing 
ave ave ave maria--
hallelujah--
it's sunday morning
& the water is running
& the water is
singing
& the water is singing
with me-- her body
becoming a canticle--
she becomes
a lover
sitting on
the ledge of
the sink-- running
a hand through my
hair--thumb over my
cheek-- she laughs
& says i'm growing
hair on my lip--
i'm here wasting
baptismal fountains--
wasting the river
Ganges-- the amazon--
the nile-- kicking
up the silt--
water pouring 
from the basin &
onto the tile floor
around me--
baptism is almost
always accidental--
when i leave the water
running i turn it
up hot--
almost scalding--
steam fogging
the mirror-- 
i am so often
a foggy person--
obscured by 
the running water--
in elementary school
i would wait
to be last in  
the bathroom so i
could run water from
all the sinks--
wait for them to
warm & stick
my whole
arms beneath them--
eyes closed
i could pretend
i was at home &
in the bath--
in middle school
i would learn to
take the pink hand
soap & rub it on
my armpits
when i forgot 
deodorant--
sitting
on the ledge--
letting the sink
cry for me--
her water--
endless-- 
outside the water
became snow yesterday
but here she flows--
i ask it to
tell me a story
about when she was 
younger-- about
her father & her 
& graveyard--
instead she tells
me about blue gills
& the feeling
of fish hooks--
she tells
me about a shell
full of water
poured over
my head-- the priests
leathery white
hands holding 
my fat pink body--
send me down
the river
in a basket--
i want to
be born here
by the faucet--
i cup hands--
splash water
to my face
greenish 
facial scrub down
the drain--
i hestitate
before
i push the handle
to shut her off--
her laugh 
repeating--
her hymn-- wordless
ave ave ave maria
i leave
the water
lulling on
second
longer-- she 
kisses my forehead
& tells me 
to make
her my hymnal--
tomorrow is the
new year--
i genuflect 
before i 
get dressed--
still damp
& humming--