מזפזפת קדימה

a small, cheap hotel room,
it's one in the morning.
I'm going to be out of here in four and a half hours.

I turn the water on,
tear the wrapping from the soap,
work up some foam,
my hands jerking over each other.
"wash clean, go to sleep".

my finger snags on an aching spot.
the water suddenly flows gently over my skin,
first one hand caressing the other,
and then again.
my skin remembers you.

my simple hand washing has become a study in remembrance.