If a bar of soap could feel
of what would it speak?
to wake up each day
feeling less than yesterday.
To watch itself decrease
daily, layer by layer
bubble by bubble
as it bobbles up and down
(through creases and bushes
corners and dark places)
upon a human’s skin
giving everything
but getting only grit
till its name fades away.
And a bar becomes a mush
and a mush becomes a blotch
and a blotch becomes an inch
that’s washed down a sink
and ceases to exist…
If a bar of soap has life
would it feel sad as it dies?
in its very short lifespan
of a week, or two or five
only used, never truly loved
and knowing when he’s gone
it’s certain no one will mourn
and as soon as morning comes
a new bar waits to take its place.
