THE BATH

Archimedes noticed it centuries ago.

I slide beneath the surface.

The bath water rises.

I hope for a Eureka moment.

My head rests against the back of the tub,

Waits for a profound revelation,

Remembers Degas’s bathers.

Time-honored ideas and images

Flood the naked mind,

Wash away incongruous thoughts,

Lift off crusty scars left by the banal,

Create strong currents to carry off debris,

Crumble unstable edifices, and

Slowly seep into cerebral folds and crevices.

My submerged brain displaces the reflections

As my body displaces water,

Yet the volume of rising contemplation

Is greater than any gray matter

I can measure after the bath

With a towel wrapped around my hair

And another drying my left foot. 

©cmheuer, 2017