Mary Crying in a Bathtub
Shannon Marzella
Mary sits in a bathtub filled with screeching white doves , her belly a mountain , smallslick hairs the brushstrokes of trees attempting to grow-- rising to the peak where sits a crater filled with bubbling water-- a lake to drown in or a thimble to douse only a parched tongue-- her breasts are tired amulets hiding behind crossed arms . Her hands are not grasping light , just her own shivering elbows dotted with gooseflesh from being le in the cold too long .
No one ever notices her feet . From her toes grow pungent roots creeping up the tile walls , blossoming with dead things . Streaks of homegrown dirt and earthworms sip muddy tears that stream from her eyes to the gnarled branch fingers that search , search for a home to call her own .