April 10, 2023 - “Spring Shower” by Elizabeth Lerman

The sound of cicadas pulls you outside. Pulls you, specifically, to the wood lined shower that sits by the side of the house. You stand in the corner of the square space and turn the handle as hot as it will go. The water flicks itself toward you and you let it land on your bare legs as you note the small, yellow flowers blooming on the vines that travel down the shower door. You have never seen them like this, have never seen them poking out shyly, looking for light, because you have never been here in the springtime. The flowers, as you know them, have always been grown and golden. There is something about them halfway like this that makes your skin feel too tight. The sight of them, stuck in mid birth, makes you want to pry the pedals open and scream bloom already.