Sta.sh
She undressed in her room- took her
ear rings out, left her hoodie
on the floor and
the belt in the loops of her
graying black jeans.
He followed her into the bathroom where the
mirrors were already steamed with
space heater smoke.
She turned on the water.
Took off her shirt.
Left her bra hanging from a handle
of a drawer.
Opened the curtain and
stepped under the water.
And they drew pictures on the
Chalk board,
Play a game of hangman.
He opened the curtain but she did not
see, she was
standing with her head bent back, unmoving and
graceless: water
thrumming through her hair, grouping the strands
atop her cheeks,
balancing on her
shoulders.
He stepped in cautiously,
closing the curtain.
She reached passed him, pooling
shampoo in her palm, turning away and
taking her hair.
He reached down- asymmetry in
her leaning, ran his hand
up the back of one of her legs, down the
slope of the other- she shivered,
he touched the crease in her back where
her spine was.
A moment.
A moment.
She turned around, tipping her head
back- his
finger under her chin-
Rinse.
He
touched her shoulders, the
lengths of her arms.
She squeezed her hair in her fingers and strands
fell loose, circling in
the drain.
No erasers later,
A collage of monochrome
Overtop of math equations and
Sunsets streaming in through
School windows.
He stood closer but she
reached passed him,
making another
palette from her palm.
She backed up slightly,
her back in the stream,
and began to knead her hands
through her hair again.
He stepped closer, still,
touched her stomach, ran
a finger down the
concaves of her
hips, up her
side.
She stepped through him
and
sat down, taking a razor and
began to soap her leg.
A sunset through school windows
And duct
Tape.
He traced the path
the razor took, kneeling
over her, leaning on
one hand.
When she stood he
stood, running his palm from her ankle over her
knee until
pausing, looking up for some kind of
permission.
She turned and stood under the water
again.
As he stood she took
the last bottle and
pressed its contents through her hair.
She sat again to soap
the other leg.
He stood in front of her
looking down, with
arms at his sides and
shoulders sagging.
When she stood he
touched her arm, but she didn't
see him.
He stepped closer and
kissed her lips.
She tilted her head back, and his mouth slid to
her collarbone.
He looked up as she
raised her arms.
Before she could, he ran his hands through
the slippery conditioner in her hair.
Starting at the scalp, he took the strands between his fingers and
wrung them out beneath the
hot water.
Once and it fell back at her shoulders.
Twice and it fell askew.
Three, Four, Five and it started falling
across her face and her
head nodded with the
motions of his hands…
He stopped.
She tilted her head back again repeated the motions
with her own hands.
He took a step away.
She took the bar of soap and started to run it over her skin.
Dust on desks and
Clocks that don't work.
Let's play a game of hangman.
There was a spot on her back she
could not reach.
He stepped foreword a
final time and, gently
he wiped it clean.
She turned suddenly.
Looked at his eyes.
Reached foreword slowly to
touch his shoulder and ran her palm
down his
chest.
"It's just that you're so far away," She said.
Let's let him live.
The chalkboard was erased.
She stepped back into the water and
let it
rinse her.
They took hands and left
The old school.
The pile of rubble.
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