One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.

In the Hot Spring Locker Room

Haley DiRenzo

I saw naked women scrubbing salted

skin as my mother ushered me

past. Eyes lingered on bodies raw

and round. Breasts dangling, bellies

drooping. Sketched scars and stretch

marks painted in different shades.

Clay earth, bruised sky, blue vein.

My own body was a girl’s then.

Still, I’d graduated from running

naked through my home to needing

to hide myself. I barely remembered

the bloom of my own mother’s

breast that fed me. She too

now dressed behind closed doors

unable to know or to teach

being seen without sex or shame

or desire. Even now in a locker room

I cover quickly, but long to be

these women. Limbs sloughed

pink after sinking heavy

into a hot spring. I can hear

their breathy sighs as water carves

rivers over curves. Their soft whispers

saying simply—yes.

More from Haley DiRenzo ↓

• @haleydirenzo on Instagram

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