You can tell this sink lost interest
though hour after hour you hum
another love song --it doesn't care
lets you shave, take over
half soap, half from that froth
--you are born already worried
and the mirror goes along :drain
is what mirrors do.
It's a little late for promises.
You promise you'll bring it flowers
that the sink will figure it out
--you say you'll stay all evening
the way one faucet is always rooted
in ice, arrives forever
and alongside carries away
the other and your face
helpless even now to flow
from your hands and bleeding.