Poetry: "this morning"

this morning

Alyssa Froehling, Class of 2017

a whole bar of soap melted in warm water,

rasping shower whispered over the rust.

i imagined your eyes clicked while you blinked,

our bareness a double exposure.

lost sleep blurred and approached,

taking you with the steam, leaving me.

(above my bones:

sticky with salt, the sting of mint.)

lemons sweated near the sink,

flesh cut into new routes with lines of sugar.

lavender unwound, and calm

neglected me touch by touch.

like most vulnerable things

morning brittles and breaks

(unfounded on linoleum floors,

on closet doors in crooked frames)

and then exists in shapes

that are not whole