We were in the bathtub…

We were in the bathtub together
After school, when no one was home
We filled it with hot water
Then with our clothes at our feet
Bare as beech wood you stood
Like a child-queen marching up
The rising slope of female development
With thighs of Asian elephant tusks
With the neck of a dipping swan
And breasts of two unhatched eggs
While mine in mirrors are
Reflections of broken twigs
Pieced together in imitation of a boy

Cyndi Gacosta was born and raised in San Diego, California. She spent only a few years of her early childhood in Sorsogon, Philippines. She studied literature at UC Santa Cruz. Her work has appeared in other literary journals such as The Walrus, The Monongahela Review, The Toucan, and Vanilla.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.