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30 Poems in 30 Days
Bain-marie
Poem the eighth
languishing in the bath
with steam gently rising,
book on the window sill —
I stew my body, sous-vide,
turning delightfully raresteak pink,
toes becoming wrinkled prunes;
like proofing buns in the oven,
my breasts rise and fall with breath,
breaking the water’s surface;
knees and elbows poking out
awkward as chicken wings
never quite fully submerged;
I bask in the rose-scented steam,
melting white chocolate on my tongue,
hair drifting out like seaweed,
begging the alarm for five more minutes
of pretending to be a cheesecake,
I sink dreamily into my bain-marie.
This poem was written as part of a challenge (to myself) to write 30 poems in 30 days to celebrate turning 30. If you’d like to join me in writing a poem a day from March 6–April 5, use the Medium tag “30dayswritingchallenge” and mention me @clawrenc so I can read your poems.
