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.

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