Bath-Time Poem

I’m cleaning

and I’m singing,

and I’m singing

as I clean:

my arms, my kneecap, my butt!

I clean my feet, clean my toes,

clean my armpits, and my nose,

when suddenly I see something—what?

The tip of a tentacle,

up from the drain:

wiggling, obscene.

There’s something down there;

it’s cruel and insane:

giggling, mean.

And then it’s gone, like that,

under the bubbles and soap.

Did I make it up? Boy, I hope.

No, I’m sure I saw it; I know what I’ve seen.

“Someone come and get me! I’m all clean!”