Look at How the Time Goes Past
by Paige Cohen
The first naked woman I remember looking
at her body—I am waiting outside the glass door
a white robe in my handsoft and too heavy for me my arms ache
half the robe unravels ripples
over cool brown tilesMy mother walks out of the shower
a cloud or a handful of snow—there is no snow where I’ve grown up
The strip of her stomach
Its stretch marks darker than the light of her skin
not so much white as pale yellow
like my sister’s
beneath skin
there is fat
and muscle
and thin green veins
and bone
it is all
bulging out
wide hips
the breasts
the round ass
the thighs—
all shell of skin
which looks to me
tight and loose
the hardness of her face
gives the impression of angerShe holds her hands beneath sink water
washing soap from her neckWhat is strange to me: I think of her the moment
before I sleep
with a woman the first time
About the Author:
Paige Cohen is an MFA candidate at The New School and associate editor at the Lambda Literary Review. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in PANK Magazine, Writer’s Bloq Quarterly, and Lambda Literary. Her short films have been featured in the San Francisco Frameline, New York NewFest, and Salem Film Festivals. She currently lives in New York City.
