Shower

by A. Deshmane, 16 (they/them)

i.
turn the knob to the scaldingest setting
step in
feel the steam
turn the knob way down
you think the varnished snowflake here
is all you’ll ever be

try not to think about
the (red glittering dancing
intricate henna-stained wrists
shimmering array of
saris you’ll never wear again
flowers food people you don’t know)
desi wedding (to a
boy) you’ll never have

don’t look down
to see breasts staring back at you
slick from the water
would be
to crumple all over again
falling twice makes
the aching for something else

2

real

ii.
jets of water like
boiling needles and
you’re smiling ‘cause it hurts and
you
know
you
deserve this pain
you miss her hands, belly, skin
from the mornings you used to be
hers

disgraceful disappointing disgusting
you think that
being the one who held her that year
is all you’ll ever accomplish
(that’s fine)

iii.
dripping, wrap your towel
around your chest and not your waist
turn away from the
faucet still dripping and wish

3

your legs would stop
shaking this way

you miss the times
she told you, quiet,
that she loved you

walk with damp feet
across the frozen speckled tiles
closed doors to show
perpetual
disapproval disappointment disgust
the way your
feet leave trails of wetness scream
to leave this sopping state
behind

Arizona