A few weeks later, you will inhale it
and have your first flashback as you crumple against the cold tile.
Like the grainy, half-white bathtub,
it should have scrubbed your insides clean
and bleached your bones and body.
You have a friend
to thank for keeping you alive,
but now you don’t know how to survive;
your mother sees the mess of your dark body rotting
among cleaning supplies, amid a sharp lemon scent of anguish,
and tells you to pick yourself up and finish.