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.