By PK
The world is a beast--
it asks for the labor
of your hands,
your name, your time, your breakfast,
your grief.
But in this refuge
the lock is heavy,
the bronze cool
against your spine.
Stay, until your breath
is just your own again.
The water will run
as long as you need it to.
This piece is from The Feminist Toilet #3. To return to the table of contents, click here.
Leave a Reply