Cold Shower

Hell's water sprayed
down her backside
while the elephant in her
hair just hung there,
waiting to say something.

Beady little eyeballs
so minuscule
stared sternly into her soul,
and shifted the comfort.
Their gaze felt like lasers,
picking her life apart.

She reached for the shampoo
as the water turned cold.

Everlasting botanicals
of passion fruit and
lavender did nothing
for the layers of filth
inside of her.

As she watched the swirl
of suds and pachyderm
slide down the drain,
the icy trickles from
the nozzle confirmed
that even Hell rebuked
her existence.

It was a good morning.