Photo by Ryunosuki Kikuno on Unsplash

I am ripped.

She says it as her belly grumbles for food.

She strokes the accordion of her rectus abdominal muscles.

They call it a washboard too.

Makes her think of Ragedy Ann being churned through to get the water out, flattened.

I am all the things I’ve ever become.

They sit here dangling, waiting for me to pull them, like drawstrings.

Pull one, and the bucket of water comes splashing down for the umpteenth time.

We are all rivers, all motion.

And so it’s okay.

As we sit here in our underwear dripping

Wondering what went wrong