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Plush Shower

Plush Shower

Plush Shower

A Poem by Michael Mallen

The water and shampoo run

down your face and sting

your eyes when you call

for a towel that she hangs on the

back of the bathroom door.

You rinse off, stepping

onto the bare tile floor, water

puddling around your feet as you

reach for the door and grab a 

plush purple bathrobe, which

she explains is all she has, so you shrug

and press it against your face 

and its cold and damp like the heel

of the sock you had thrown on 

the ground earlier which you wring out 

over the shower before sliding it 

onto your still wet foot 

while she takes a Plan B in the kitchen

because she’s not ready to be a mother,

and you watch in silence because 

you weren’t ready for any of this at all.

2nd Best

2nd Best

Bare

Bare