skin, a permanent bathtub
I fold it back,
the years struggle
glow through dull spots
haven’t forgotten your war stories.
like broken windows,
should’ve known you wouldn’t remember me.
Collins lives with her three dogs in Jacksonville, Florida. She
graduated with her MFA in poetry from Vermont College of Fine Arts last
summer, and teaches English and creative writing to juvenile male
inmates. She has previously been published in BACOPA, Gloom Cupboard,
Camroc Press Review, and Poetry Quarterly. She keeps a blog with some
of her favorite quotes, photos, and poems at www.kepthoney.com
|This is a piece
I wrote when I was thinking about how much I missed having a bathtub. I
was also in the middle of watching a documentary on dementia, and was
really heartbroken by the idea of being vulnerable enough to surrender
to memory loss. I wanted to show the lack of color I'd imagine would
come with a loss like that, and really enjoyed playing around with
images in this poem.