[Preface]
‘…she is overwhelmed by the smell of drugs as she
walks into the bathroom, flares pulled up over her knees intending to wash her
feet….she’s thinking about taking a bath…’
‘…she has another bathroom mirror conversation
uneasy, shaking
make-up running
if only you could see the pathetique
she knows it’s mainly lack of sleep
but the thoughts are brewing again
same time, same place
twisting their way through grey matter at body
temperature
appropriately resembling the contents of a cement
mixer
escaping as long-winded sighs that hang from her
tongue
& unfurl like solemn flags of surrender
she liberates a week full of pent-up suffering
absorbed silently along with the smoke in equal
portions
by the towels, the exhaust fan, her hair & the
one inch gap under the door
it’s stale residue lingers ‘til another washing
day…’
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