I know it well

make a graph
of your skin covered
versus volume of water in the bath
and pray to the hindu god of ruin
as fingers and toes turn pink
and prune.
let the drain open
and the soul go
feed those plants some sunlight
that live in the window.

i love breaking my nails
and chewing on lyrics,
stumbling into drums
while kissing the crisscross
marks on a microphone.
these ideas are diamonds and pearls -
lunge forward and lose your breath
lay your head on these wet steps.

my catharsis never says halfhearted

like a body shaking to get warm is involuntary
so are these dreams of Fourth of July
Roman Candle fights, singing like dead musicians
and rain on aching nights.
climbing a shed in the backyard
just to get closer to stars.
The hardest part was always getting down
and the intuition of mystics, always ours.
Jaya Jagatambe