Unapologetic

I began this piece by picturing a scene of grotesque textures, smells, and overall sensations. It quickly evolved into a darker poem, one of secrecy and raw emotion.

Makeup splotches and tiny paintbrushes crowd the sink. Four long hairs trail out of its mouth like a huge daddy long legs’ spiny feet tickling the edge of fear and disgust. A buildup of brine on your toothbrush suggests a thorough cleaning of the faucet or a complete disregard for the haunting effect of morning breath. Rouge on the edges of the towels flakes off in puffs every time the fan turns itself on. A generic soap bar melts away in a puddle and has begun a steady slope down the edge of the sink, streaking milky lumps as it goes. Two, no three horseshoe shaped plastic trays sit with their jaws open to the crusty spores that land here and there - each orthodontist would wag their noses if they could witness the crime against oral hygiene, the neglect of fifth grade retainers.

The one object in your bathroom that strikes me is the open book of poems that lies across the back of the toilet. It looks almost brand new, but for the curled edges and the dried and crunchy texture. I saw you drag the Family-Sized Doritos into the bathroom last night. That explains the orange dust on the bath mat and the finger-sized stains on page 57. It doesn’t explain the tears you must have wept to make these pages curl back on themselves. Curled almost like your fingers clutching the edge of the toilet seat, the bathtub. You did your best to clean up the red specks I found under the bath mat and against the cabinets.

Next time, grab the pretzels. They won’t stain the linens like those goddamned Doritos.

Author's Note

I molded this poem into more of a block/prose form more as an experiment than a strong attachment to the structure. Does the physical appearance match/work with the piece? Does the progression in the speaker's tone/subject strengthen the darkness of the poem?