Old Tin Basin

i will not speak
you may if you like but
here on the floor
below you, i'll
take your feet.
drag the basin close,
dented metal and stiff, wearing patchy gray and the brief bite
of hot water, a simple soap and I'll
wash you.
just listen to us, water and tin
let's be quiet, see what reads in the
worn press prints of your soles, let's
be just like the quiet. let the world sleep or
walk by in the night, but
i'll pursuit these lines, run your knuckles and tell you
things in the old contraband murmurs, language
cast cross the quiet lines of
divided Babel those early days, let's
be quiet lovers on the cordon wall, I'll wash you in a meter
you know and you'll not worry for the voice

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