Shower empowerment

it’s 11:03 am.

i should be in class, but

it’s like my body knows it’s a holiday

and somehow, i can’t get out of bed

on valentine’s day.

today my valentine is a country away,

but it’s been done before.

overpriced danish shampoo –

for “normal” hair –

squirts into my open left palm

my square palm, earth,

according to those palm memes

suds spring up as i scrub

my palms together, then

pull them apart to stare.

these are the same palms that

pressed sweaty against yours

at that potter con in 2010.

these are the same palms

that gripped a cold, wet can of coke

forgetting my hatred of cold, wet things;

i was too preoccupied with your calm face

on that white porch swing

with the big cushion that kept sliding off.

these are the same hands that trailed

along your waist

freshman year, room 302.

and my pride grows wings larger than a phoenix’s

thinking of conquered chemistry worksheets,

algebra exams, internet fights, and

the way your eyebrows crumbled

all under my fingers

when you said you weren’t sure

if you could live how you wanted.

you couldn’t come out, but now you’re going

to german pride.

with these hands i couldn’t catch

a football in seventh grade,

“i’m vegan,” i told mr. munson.

“what’s a vug-an?” he replied, eyebrows

knitting as he chuckled.

these hands wrote novels, stirred 4 am pasta,

stitched my bleeding heart back together again.

they picked up the phone and dialed you

to tell you i needed to hear your voice.

i am just taking a shower,

kneading suds in my tangled, windswept,

slept-on hair and feeling the power of doing.

because i can do everything on my own

with these two hands.

just tell me when, and they’ll be there

ready to mold and shape life

to how we’ve always wanted

it is valentine’s day

and i am just skipping class

but i am lucky to have these hands

on this earth

with this “normal” hair

and 6 months until i see you again