Shredding lyrics
by Clint Smith
I scrub the shower once a week.
Put the washcloth down
with one hand,
pick the sponge up
with the other.
The interplay between bleach & soap
rest heavy in the back of my throat.
I get on my hands and knees
& scrub
while the shower is still running.
Pellets pummeling my back,
an unfettered tango
of hygienics and submission.
On the days I scrub the hardest,
I don't know
whether the residue is coming
from my body
or the things that it has
previously left behind.