What Won't Close

The caulk came off in one long strip

and I watched the seal just slip,

revealing the dark gap underneath—

the place where water gets beneath

the tile, behind the wall,

where rot begins its slow crawl.

I sat on the edge of the tub

and felt the weight of it, the rub

of knowing I should fix this,

knowing I won't. The dark abyss

stays open. Gets bigger each week.

Mold blooms where it's bleak.

I have no tools, no caulk gun,

no skill, and even less fun

in the thought of sealing it back up.

So I leave it. I fill my cup

with water. I shower. I let

the steam rise. I don't forget

that underneath the tile,

the wall is failing, all the while

I do nothing, watch nothing

change except everything.

The gap stays open. The seam stays bare.

The decay blooms in the dark air.