Mama's big rainbow

umbrella keeps me nice and --


dry in the shower.

     Hawk on a streetlight
taking a poor man's shower
          in the summer rain.

I step in the shower
It feels like it's been hours
Since I turned the faucet on
but the transition makes me pause

I push the curtain to either side,
Making sure it lines the walls,
Spills are something I avoid
Then I can face the waterfall

It surrounds my every fiber
I start to feel like it's a part of me
I connect with my body,
Closing my eyes and remembering

But a loud noise startles me
I hate the anger I feel,
Every sound, crash, clang that's made
It rattles through me

And suddenly I have to face reality,
Reminding myself of who I am
I'm no longer seven or twelve,
I'm an adult in a safe house

The water covers me as I realize I sat down
Sometimes it's easier to find comfort on the ground
I get up and am covered in bubbles
It's nice to zone out and forget my troubles

He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.

Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
   as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.

It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.

Somehow, his presence and
absence
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
Unpredictable.
Vacuum-like.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?

What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.

To be knelt in a shower
Watching crimson mix with water
Some good ol’ fashioned
Pain drain

Bloodletting
How delicious

What is it about a cleansing ritual
That brings
Soot to surface

It’s scar tissue
Meets fresh wounds
Amidst the carnage
A kernel of truth

Cartography
How scrumptious

What is it about toweling off
That removes
Less than we thought

It’s whispered words
Meets silent screams
All this chaos
What does it mean

Decryption
How cathartic

What is it about slipping into jeans
That tucks away the secrets
Folds up the mental maps
Slurps the blood from the floor
And masks us up
For the world to adore

///

“How was your weekend?”

(wait, what’s my line?)

Plasma
A flushed cheek
“Oh…it was fine”
smiles

Merely existing
How divine

///

I'm taking you in and drinking you down
Like a tidal wave.
Our hearts beat in tandem -
A symbiotic rhythm.
I can't take my eyes off of yours.

Though my skin might wrinkle and swell,
I could sit here for hours,
Content in getting lost in your presence.
Water fills my mouth
And runs uncontrollably from my lips,
Falling in a steam of a repeated "I love you."
I say it over and over again;
The phrase comes as naturally as breathing.
It harmonizes with the way the water falls,
And the way my soul reverberates
Against your own.

Every time you pull me close,
Meeting your lips with mine,
The earth pauses on its axis.
With my hands either up to your cheeks,
Or down at your lap,
I'm reveling in you.
I'm content with drowning
In the affection you shower me with.

Even when the faucet eventually runs dry,
I am not.
I don't think I'll ever be able to fully dry off
Your love.

would it be easier if i was prettier?

I took a shower at eleven,
then my head hot all of a sudden.
I thought, "this my death,"
"Stop, take a deep breath."
Thought I was already in heaven.