Pink Toenails

They are too clean,
too perfect,
each nail crafted with lipstick pink
the painted white petals of a daisy crowning
both of your larger toes
beckoning the eye to their design.

I am bent on my knees, staring down at them,
my washbin still with warmth and lavender oil
and I chance a look at your eyes.

Deep folded eyelids, erupting with past flight
past truths
and I am moved to touch the soles of your feet
bent further to the floor.

I am overturned inside
breaking form within myself
working through the potion we drank
and allowing the floor to weave in and out
of focus.

You sit patiently, your hands untwitching
your breath unhitching
your steady mind sinking softly into the water beside me

I tread my fingers through the washbin
to test the water before I begin.

A moment of darshan
and I know I am seen.

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