drunk in the shower
by Marian Jordan-Sabo
drunk in the shower i felt my insides
spill over the back of my throat
i learned that i am made of iron
& my warm places are not
warm at all as i watched myself
run down my septum
& traced the organic boundaries
of red uneven against the wet
tiles that only tolerated me
drunk in the shower the water carved
until my arms were edgeless
i wanted to sit a few more centuries
& watch the rivulets transform
me into some mutable fixture
like that canyon we drove through
& when you saw me again
the layered discoloration of passed
years would be your awe
drunk in the shower i heard
the bittersweet chords of thieves
through the peach-colored drape
& recollected my consciousness
with my temples between my kneecaps
the dizzying tides withdrew
& i went with them past the grate
of the central drain, until
i forgot where i was from
About the Author
Marjorie Jordan-Sabo is a junior at WSU who grew up in Wenatchee, Washington. She’s majoring in English with a concentration in literary studies and minoring in music. She aims to pursue a career in writing (who knows what) while teaching English. When she’s not in class, Marjorie is usually practicing cello, listening to Watsky, or strategically organizing her room to accommodate yet another plant