Reposted in memory of my father.

In Hot Water

The only time he ever fired up the stove
was to boil a small pot of shaving water
Back in days before hot water heaters
he needed it piping hot to wet a stubborn beard
After the water began boiling he moved
to a small mirror over the sink
Wetting his brush of soft straight bristles
He dipped them in a shaving soap bowl
to wiggle them around working up a lather
Applying thick suds over a bearded face
he was pleasured just feeling its luxury
As the lather cooled he reached for his
straight razor a single ultimate cutting blade
Slowly he cut away on ragged sideburns
then moved to hair near lips and nose
Ending the first shave he had trimmed
stubble from chin and scratchy neck
A worn leather strap got a few strokes
from a dull razor needing sharpening
He pourrd warm water on a wash cloth
and wiped soapy bits sticking to the skin
A small towel dries a tired face for more
thick lather colder this time around
He fingered his cheeks to find a few
uncut bristles quickly snipped away
And after cloth and towel he admires
handiwork of a man who knows how
A smoothness past imagining he felt
the skin of a newborn beneath touch
Launching renewed face he reaches
for a bottle of cooling lavender water
Patting it into every pore of open
invigorated skin soon to be admired
A smile said she awaited as he tied
the robe walking to their bedroom
Where she would welcome smooth

2007 F William Broome