“Bathing Nude,” Zinaida Serebriakova, 1927, WikiArt.

How cold is winter water splashing from
Fast-flowing streams, pouring from deep
Wells, bathing my naked body, desire for
Warmth, steaming copper tub, scented
Soaps, pained scrubbing, Too hasty, no
Moments for myself, sans satisfaction,
Self-indulging fantasies, lying naked in
Summer sun, feet and toes toying,
Rippling river waves.

Frosty morning, hard pushes of pump
Handle, strained movements up and
Down, meaning felt deep within, water
Cobble stones spilling, receptive earth
Soaking. Predawn hours, starlit, I bathe
At gushing well, icy water, days and
Night heating enameled pans, soapy
Cloth adoring gritty arms and legs.

Windowed privacy, who will yearn to view,
Embracing my face and lips? Turn away
As bending body reveals, secret desires
During twilight hours? Or do I long for
Candlelight adoration? Delights of night-
Bathing suitors, sturdy male hands of
Those small like mine, sweet taste of
Petaled lips, nectar-tasting busy bees.

Thanks for reading.

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