lily pad

the water learns how to 
cover her face. i hear a baby crying
even though it is the middle 
of nowhere & nothing but stop signs 
are up this late. i sometimes go to 
the bathtub & find it full,
lily pads floating on the surface.
if i have been gone too long there will
be frogs in there too, leaping
from one pad to another & then beneath
the surface. there are so many ways
to hide. i have started looking at each room
as a game of hide & go seek. only,
the hide is a game of death or death.
i also look & ask myself, "where could
lily pads grow?" which is a question
about how we will manage to be beautiful
when we are trying to keep the most 
important secrets of our lives. i buy 
a plane ticket & do not take the plane.
the lily pads are in my coffee cup,
the one i don't wash because i like
how it tastes like dirt. a thin skin
of coffee stain. don't get me out of here.
don't fly the plane. give me all your lily pads
& i'll give you mine. i think people forget
that a lily pad is the full plant,
there is a flower floating. a little dream
of breathing with a tape recorder.
the frogs sing a mourning song.
i join them. the tub overflows &
we all get to be amphibians when
they come for us.