Plugholes

by Marie Naughton

Pull
the plug
and she leaps
to dodge
the gurgling
current
hopping from foot
to foot
she wiggles
fingers
as we fetch
towels.
Scooped
in lifeboat arms
she grimaces
at the swirling water
and like a frog
draws up her legs
to save
curled toes
from the sucking
tide.
Standing
swaddled
on cold tiles
she shivers
and peers
down
into
the tub
some
wordless
question
swimming
in her
eyes.