Hour one
Spread poinsettias drug to the surface
Effervescing their wicked kinship
Branching over her body
Swarming in depths,
Drinking her body
She traces herself
Bubbling in the bathtub
Sipping in the soap cells

Hour two
Milky white entombs her knees
She traces the galaxies of black holes and bleeding stars
Brings a nail up to her teeth, coated in less than an ounce
Of the nine pints trailing her body
The razor floats in the water beside her
She blows it down with the force of her fist
It bobs back up, sheering glistens off its back,
Taunting shimmers in her eyes

Hour three
She is pruned
Aging decades in the water, crinkles swirling her skin,
As it flits up to her neck
Her nails had taken attachment to the skin of her thighs
Breaking bruises
The feeling of falsity failing its urge to die away and she breathes in,
Touching the lifelessness in the room with her lungs
Feeling the patterns of stillness coax her cilia,
Tacks of mascara shredding in butterflies under her eyes

Hour four
Slicks of cherry juice plays in the bathtub
But she crawls out, meager, stripped,
Arms crafted of lines, creasing flesh
She rubs marks away as they start to push at the surface
Screams of attention
“want me want want me want me”
She stares at herself, lethargic, and makes vague pokes at the flaws