How collapsible her body had become:
dimpled knees wobbling; spine blowing
this way, that; pink skin pickled in white light.
He undressed her for the tub. What distance:
her body underwater. She jerked up,
“Wha! wha!” Slid down. He cupped
her chin, his knees beat up by tiles.
Breakfast, her eyes wouldn’t converse,
licked fingers in the Times, placemat threads
unraveled into tangled clumps. “The weather
keeps drifting around the paper,” she said,
her voice of a five year old tiptoeing.
He mumbled into his coffee cup. “Why
would I?” she replied. “I like to drink.”
