- Vol. 05
Cleanliness, Mummy says, is next to Godliness. Today the water’s cool as eels, clear as water in Dick Brook as skies were yesterday. Until she drops the soap. And then as if by magic, clouds appear around my feet. It tickles when she cleans between my toes and as the water swirls, I think of when my daddy held me high above the shallows where crayfish hide between the alder roots, little caves where shale becomes a home for cadis worms and trout. And as I watch the ripples in my fennel-scented bowl, its little waves bring back a tide of rock pools garneted with sea anemones swaying green with water weed; now you see it now you don't, a shrimp-crowd ghosting through its crazy razzmatazz; razor fish; my footprints in the sand erased by warm sea breezes. Cool white foam disperses while my mother’s hands rinse my ankles as this morning's rain pools across the window-sill. Gathers. Gushes. Lost among forgetmenots.