for and after Daniella Toosie-Watson
the curtain is off-white
the faucets silvery metallic made to twist
adjust pressure the tiles segmented
borders like the body’s edges we are always
in contact with something even if
it’s only the floor and air the green
bath-rug’s damp fluff my skin
is brown is brown is brown
is down on its weak knees the sink
is white the tub is white the walls
white the window frosted and on top
of that a layer of condensation
outside it there is a whole world
i know it even when it is not visible
that it is true and open and full of contradiction
under my nails the grime houses
a whole ecosystem millions of active
cells molecules mitochondria dried skin flakes
waiting to dislodge to fall the towel is tan
i am a tangled knot a pretend pretzel person
trying to regulate my breathing and inside
the chemicals sending me information
the ceiling is cracked the ceiling is cracked
i cannot reach it i stop trying
i breathe the breath has no color I breathe again
the breath of dinosaurs and stars the breath
mixed with the breaths of billions of people
the breath encapsulating my skin
the particles of air real even in the unseen gas
i open the window i do not consider leaving
the wind is moody and frantic even more
than i am it is a violent shimmy of invisible shoulders
it blows the shower curtain right off the rod
i pick it up put it back on slowly
segment by segment dull rusty hook by dull rusty hook