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 hand

soft and    too heavy for me   my arms ache
half the robe unravels      ripples
over cool brown tiles

My 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 anger

She holds her hands beneath sink water
washing soap from her neck

What 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.