Transparent Words - Poetry

 
Tub and Sill
By
Maryann Hazen-Stearns
My toes feel as fingers clutching at the chain.
Pointer toe bears the ring. I'm wed to the rubber
stopper. There is still light. It's 4 p.m. or so.
There are voices in the yard laughing.
My brother, his friend.
It's early to be in the tub. Why?
The bop-noise of a ball-kicked. Laughter,
bop-kick, shouts. Curious, I dis-
engage toe to carefully stand.
No rubber mats then. I peek out window.
feel a sliver of pain, a slice.
I glance down. What?
From sill pricks the remains
of decapitated thumbtack.
Maroon line of rust runs down tiles.
My chest, still girl-flat, bleeds.
My nipple runs red.
It flows down my stomach,
pools into navel. Courses
down thighs, knees.
The boys are gone.
The water has grown cold.
My mother knocks, am I
about ready? She pulls the chain
and the stopper pops.

 

Pg06

Return to Contents