Waterproof Enough

I was scrubbing the ring where the hard water sits,

watching the brush lose its bristles in grit.

A spider, no bigger than a peppercorn flake,

found a seam in the tub for its daring escape.

It ducked through a rift in the white rubber line,

where the seal has gone brittle and stopped being fine.

A yellowing bead pulled back like a nail

from a finger that’s worked until the joints fail.

I can see the dark hollow where the drywall meets tile,

a gap I’ve been meaning to fix for a while.

But I just turn the faucet and watch the steam rise,

letting the moisture hide the house's disguise.