by J.B. Kalf

I exit the shower still wet.
I brush my teeth. I comb

my chest. I roll the deodorant
between the stretchmarks.

I stare into the mirror.
I allow myself to dance.

I dead drop on a sliver
of soap. And I live

inside this graceful slip.
I take a picture

to last longer. I am
euphemism euphoric.

I am enough. Clutching
my pearls — Goddamit,


I am enough.