| Shower My neck stiffens As I turn on the tap. A loud, hoarse croak And the hose vomits The cold, frothing water. Shivering I submerge the Green pail into the red bucket. Eyes shut. A wave of tremor Like a premonition Rolls over me Just before the piercing Cold stabs my Naked skin. The first is always The hardest. And twice Everyday I would endure The first pail. |