A Shower, An Acid Trip, New Year’s Eve, 2019
I was baptized once before this. A tub of cold water. The hands of a stranger. I was a child who miraculously never shed any skin. Just collected it. A hideous thing. The kind of ugliness that you’d assume must have started in the womb. I don’t know exactly why I brought you here. Why I stripped us naked. You a carefully crafted statue depicting fertility. Me the same ghastly collection of flesh. Maybe I was hoping this time the water would leak in through to my bones. Maybe you’d peel me as if I were a tree. As if you could physically dig through every year of my life. Remove the moment I decided I don’t deserve to be happy. Carve the rest into the shape of the statue of Venus with the arms still intact. And maybe this time she will stay complete and beautiful. Instead you split your torso open. Had me crawl in. For a moment you were carrying more than one child. For a moment I was inside you patiently waiting to be reborn.
J. Ian Bush is a poet from Ohio. Their work has been featured in various magazines and journals, including on all the sins, Coming and Going, and Some of His Sons Were Horses, and their first chapbook, 23 to Golgotha, was published by EMP books in early 2019. All these poems are from their published full length book, A Cascading Failure.
Take a look at ‘Note on Modern Infrastructure‘, also by J. Ian and featured in Issue 11 of all the sins.