Bath water gathers at her edges,
bubbles shrink pricked with
oxygen and her probing thoughts, finger.
The 40 watt bulb becomes a thick aura,
neither here nor there as
beneath the surface she senses
only her heart beat, beat, beat.
She’s naked in and out of water,
peeling away layers she hopes
she can only see,
lifting her edges with finger and thumb, reluctantly,
like the lip of a skirt in a breeze.
Tiles merge into one sheen, cold surface which
her skin slips upon, slides against.
Stale bath water clings to her curves,
hugs her tightly, pulls her down
beneath the surface where breathing is here nor there,
she senses
only her heart beat, beat, beat.
Drowning isn’t an option but
nor is she living.
Her back, behind and balls of her feet
push against the solid water
and like a pirate’s prize she leaves
the water, glistening and wet, alive.
Standing, edges lobster red and centres soft.
The towel is coarse, a constraint,
barely covers the inches she pinches, sucks in.
Beneath her sheets splayed or foetal
is here nor there, all she wishes to
hearis her heart beat, beat, beat.