No Way Back Poem by Stephen Brian Brady

as the Moon bares her shoulder
and turns away

another day
semi-conscious
in the 'salle de bain'
what can we tell the snake
we call the shower-hose
exposed

it's head poised
about us locked inside our body-shapes
when it knows everything

that there's no way back
for soap, for water,
for excess toothpaste on the brush

and why the hush along the towel-rail
as deep in the mirror on the wall
once again
we fail to grasp the meaning of it all