I am acutely aware of my Adam’s apple,
its bobbing motion mirroring
that of my chest and stomach as I gasp for air,
submerged in the hot waters of the soaker tub.

I lean forward to turn the heat higher
and I can’t help but notice how old I’ve become.
My tough hands have become soft gloves,
my strong legs are weak little pins,
and my back is eager to loose its burden.

I see every discoloration, every errant spot,
every crooked joint, every scar or remnant of pain.
I lean back, sink further into the water,
hoping the mist will thicken even more
and hide my eyes from my own body.