In Poems & Fiction

In the shower

no lights on,

none necessary,

I know where everything is

or should be.

Nevertheless, I hold my breath,

anticipating a reeling emergency,

but it’s just a feeling.

Some people fear almost everything.

I am a professional.

I know what I’m doing.

Bullets of hot water,

steam sketching a cloud,

soap scumbling my face and hands,

I am a cleansed ghost,

shining in the pink dark.

Only my x-ray charm

and infallible sense of direction

prevent me from swirling

down the giddy vortex

south to the equator

where everything,

even the undertow

of this careening planet,

swirls in reverse,


except death.

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