my stomach in the bathtub folded over and wrinkling like the skeleton of my grandmother
hands that look too much like my fatherβs blanketing my stomach like those of a cruel mother
on the best days the window next to the bathtub is uncovered and I can see out but nobody can see in
on the best days I look down at a body that is nothing but a pile of snow leftover a week after the storm has past somebody has forgotten to shovel me whole
there is a damp hole in my stomach and I am staring at it unsure if I want it to melt wondering who might fit shoveled inside