Sailing in place

by Arthur Klepchukov

i. clutch. the. showerhead, drowning
in the afternoon of sound, shrieking
lyrics of your December song on final repeat – but why end?
headBANGING! in the bathtub, almost slipping
on the words of agony, they fill his heart like
tear droplets and I spew them out. neighbors worry as
i stomp with bass until marble cracks, curtain
ripping as he holds on, still singing
naked body thrown against the wall
fists pounding bricks, skull throbbing fierce
but no inch of him is listening
I’m on my knees and pull the faucet out like
a stubborn cord, pipes escape their prison of decades
and thank him with a hiss
the water gives me goosebumps before it melts
my hair and begins to clog
toes drowning in a violent pool of me
nails detach as lyrics still drool out of
melting mouth and closed-eye visions dance around
red droplets sprinkled all about like morning dew
sounds punching at the ceiling until
eclipse invades, all sanity escapes
a brilliant bathtub shatters, no more
container for the ecstasy of melody or madness
he’s nothing but a violent nude,
wet fragments of a soul
that can’t bear to sing along
when every untouched inch of you is gone