Wake to drown--slipping
in the tub. Dead, sevens
floating round your head
and I lost count--seven--seven--
seven--you lost count--seven--seven.
The shower curtain came down too,
wrapped us in a clear mold,
the drain swallowing your hair--
seven--seven--seven. Sleep
dear, forget the dreams
let the cold water drain, frail
body fallen--I'll soap you,
if you soap me. Red curlicues
dangling, sucked through.
Kerry James Evans
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