Face Washing

You couch over this fountain of youth,
soap in hand - the memory opens the tap -
in an instant, from tap to sink - you reclaim
beauty, hidden beneath a day's tears.

The gentle discipline of your mother's hands
echoes across your face - she lent you this magic.

Rub soap on open palm - dash from forehead to
chin, back up, back down - it is a facial ointment -
props to you if it's blue. Set soap down, open palm again -
the cool water spewing from this rotten tap restores you;
every splash a kiss from your mother's quiet memory.

She prepared you for days like these, when -
like her - the world sits upon you, your back
twists, your knees lock, strength slips the grasp
of your boney, worn hands - wash your face.
Reclaim what the world plies from you.