in the shower I stood 
with my leg up
balanced against the lip

quivering with effort not to 
slip through the soap 
wondering if I could

delete the growth? and then
immediate hatred and then 
wanting it back

a blade scrape and suddenly 
I was eleven again 
arms and legs tucked in

chick in a membrane
waiting to crack
through to the wider world

washing smooth skin
down my whole body
holding my every breath

who was this for? not I
having done so much to stretch 
this skin to fit inside

Golda (she/her) is a writer and artist from Chicago. Her works of prose and poetry have been previously published in After Hours, Bi Women Quarterly, B O D Y, and The New York Times, among others. Website