Women in Broken Showers
I found a haven, a heaven in the forest that was loved with porcelain sinks. * When I realized my body was touchable my rib cage left my body and I abandoned it too when they hugged me and smiled. * I run the washcloth under the sink, dip it in the teapot’s boiling water and I scrub up my thighs to scrub off the skin. * My organs cut themselves and their friends out with pocket knives, wondered somewhere beyond this skin, and I smiled too. * I take my naked body and put it between the shower and the sink. I take the cold water and pour it into my hair. It falls onto the bathmat. I spread the shampoo between my hands and scalp. The water runs down my face and the suds stick to my eyebrows. * I’m on my bathroom floor calling my mom I’m telling her I can’t do this anymore and she’s saying she knows. And I’m telling her I don’t know why this happens to me and she doesn’t know either. And she is on the Atlantic, I am on Michigan And if she is a girl broken, I am a girl breaking. * Steam rolls off the pasta pot. It circles up to the ceiling out of the sink. My mom teaches me to run the water cold, my grandma teaches me how to shower in sinks.
Sadie Burch attends Interlochen Arts Academy; Burch won first place in the Charles Crupi Memorial Poetry Contest for Michigan High School students. For more information on the contest, please visit the Albion College English Department website.