By Kellene O’Hara

It’s the bath we protest. Not the water. We like water. 

We like lakes filled with green goop and yellow goop that we scoop and pour over our heads, like shampoo. We get tangled in ribbons of life beneath the surface. 

We like streams, running water that runs between our fingers. We try to catch it, but never can. 

We like the ocean where we are filled with salt and sand. Gifts from the sea. 

Home, you fill the tub with suds. 

But, tomorrow, we’ll be back outside, where the world is wild and wet and where we’re alive. 

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Kellene O’Hara has been published in The Fourth River, Marathon Literary Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. Her story, “Words for a Puppet,” has been published in Intermissions, an anthology from Grattan Street Press. She has an MFA in Fiction from The New School. Find her on Twitter @KelleneOHara and online at kelleneohara.com.