by Olivia Dudding Rodriguez
Let this body remember being holy water.
Formerly: runoff, rain, spilled mopwash snow that relented,
born of a faucet, trickling, keeping the pipes intact.
Afterwards, find me in a squirt gun,
let me soak the flower
beds and neighbor kids.
Can I take your makeup off
after a good night? Or please
I cling to the frozen peas, let
me ease you.
If not, walk into any gas station sneak me, bottled, under your jacket,
I don't care. Put a splash
of me in a dog bowl and then
take me in.