Poets for Science
Global Gallery

Bathroom Tile

Category

Location

Published

A temporary respite
from the outside tumult.
The staff bathroom.
No kids allowed.
A place to stop
          planning,
          deciding,
           reacting.


Pattern 1

In a metal box with a weak lock,
          closed with a silver propeller,
I sit over a cold, porcelain bowl.
          Considering the tiles on the floor,
          I seek order in squares
of light and dark.
Somehow only two colors
          but limitless
configurations
patternless and
never repeating,
         as I scan the floor
again
and again.


Pattern 2

  I   fell     into  a tile     above  the  urinal       a   sudden coldness
                            on  my  forehead.
I   stared   into  an  off-white              expanse.
            Black   specs,        crumbs    of          dark cookie,
      floating          in    the   creamy                 ceramic.

I   fell      into   this        thick       ether,
                           past         cold                 dark stars
                pulling          the  light
        from  a   vibrant
                         young   universe
                                  of    golden       sun.

Safe  in  this  square,   bound  by
grout’s   grey  static,  my  march
with  entropy  is  shifted,  an  ar-
row  in  reverse,    removing  ub-
iquitous,   useless  energy,   stor-
ing it for another place and time.