Bath Time

Porcelain Habits

Bath Time

I pour in sweet and milky chemicals, then slip my right foot in with the water from the cold tap.

The burning sensation is lessened by commitment.

After a few breaths, it’s in with the left, then the hands.

Hands tell feet they’re being over dramatic.

Onto my knees, then another breath.

Slowly my chest eases into the water, and the tar in my lungs melts.

I lie back against the porcelain and watch my body turn red as the soap sits like algae on the water's edge.

Head under the water, sometimes I feel my spine thud against the bottom. This is delicate because it’s one of the only times you’re emptier than what is around you.

Take the time to breathe.

performance poetry
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Sarah Thompson

I write about ridiculous things that have happened to me.

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