arms translucent as a butterflies’ wings
counting blue veins
and freckles
in the cold bath water of morning
with hands instinctively tracing the patterns
on the white enamel
the ones she found in the costal cartilage of his ribcage
that rose with syncopated gusts of breath
in tune with hers(lumberous body)
remembering how
skin brimmed over fingers
as she squeezes flesh of stomach
and incandescent thoughts
float through the fluid
that fills her head
moments of silence and stillness and goose bumps and soap
listening to voices that can’t be placed
in the house with many rooms
rice paper arms shrivelled to prunes and full body shivers
at seven am.
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