poem of the day

In steamy mists
aromatic seeds
burst upon her skin,
confetti her shoulders,
frisk her slackened thighs,
while on the shower floor,
those manicured feet
are liberally anointed
with sesame oil.

Haze lifts as she rinses away
creamy lathers before
stepping out into the opulence
of a warm white wrap.
When she vigorously
rubs all moisture
to a powdery dryness
the room shudders.

It is enough. Time now for unction,
a healing sprawl of chamomile,
arnica, horse chestnut on her chin,
her throat, her arms, her legs,
her heart and down the lax arc
of her stomach, to hips,
knees, ankles and toes.

Later, she rides off in her chariot
with her new self,
her cool blue SUV
dispensing grunge in its wake.
She is modern, all woman, in control.
She selects princes and they turn into frogs.

More at http://mariemacsweeney.com.