Day one, I’m done floating
water through the two star end
of me, salted and lemon wet
I’m going to will myself
to stand and clear
the thick white wall
no symbolism in this hot and weak gesture
no making art when faint hits
sit! toiled lid
hunch: the one proven sacred thing you became
from those men is that way you bend
over a spread squat
breathe: dew escaping chest, lanugo skin
contemplate the drain, not yet
but soon.
Thigh sweat growing a prism over plastic
seat, the hair down the leg you shaved
for everyone but you and said instead,
“I like it soft” —when lying feels like
(protection)
you’re gonna will yourself
to stand at the oval edge
down-looking for silver orb, your moon face
swelling red, brunette branches collapsed
at your cheeks— that drain
a mirror turns out, turns out
your looking at yourself as you plunge
hand arm-deep in that bath
through rainbow sheen, flecks of flesh, earth—
gaze unmoved between you
and you
crab crawling your fingers in
to press click suck
the water
too heavy, turns out
for a programmed release
so you will yourself
to wedge four points of the star
beneath the choking silver lip
feel it collapse and pinch tips
don’t let up, hot and bent you
may want
to fall back to that lid—
to COMMIT TO THE DRAIN: push past
the first knuckle line and lift, lift
it soft enough to remain
connected yet open as water
rushes not floats through your flesh revealing
the gap where your face projects;
See my eyes
look at me
Trust the body knows
when to retract claw back
and stand again
trust now
the drain and listen
to the sinking hum
of water pulling itself
like love always to the lowest
place, now
gargling towards
her arterial
core
where
down
up
becomes
revolving
and towelless
you are gonna leave here
on a two-flight descent
down-looking at stairs not your own
lined by photos of the war, a wedding, sepia
child (glint of sun), you will see
the typewriter, some badges and finally
a mirror before you
hung in the corneal
end of your eyes
aqueous then oil; afterimages
of the world laid against
your lid, cleansed save for the crystalline
sheaths of salt
crucified to the walls
after a good soak.