"Ode to the Cottage in My Bathtub"

“Ode to the Cottage in My Bathtub”

If I were lined with your same stones,
I would sink, clatter onto the tub floor,
As the gentle, white water sloshed
But could not cleanse
My small resolute roof.

But I would not wish to be beached where you are,
Slouching with your haggard I guess it is so
In a stranger's bathtub, distracted
By thronging gulls. I would choose
A mountain's lone, cool lake
As the birthplace of my world, and
Devour it for its galesong.

If I could house your pin-sized fisherman,
I would also keep him in from the wild
Myths spluttering, yet echoing, beyond the tub.
Every ignorant day, he could totter to his shore,
Fish without end, and sleep in a cottoned dream.

Meanwhile, I would learn to gleam
Like warmed butter pooling in its bowl, and
Glow, a stranded haven, over the placid sea.