What Warps

The pattern on my shower curtain

used to be clean lines—

geometric, precise,

the kind of thing someone

thought looked modern.

Now the geometric is warped.

The steam has bent the plastic,

made the straight lines curve,

made the pattern into something

it wasn't supposed to be.

There's mold in the corner.

I noticed it this morning

while my shower ran,

while the water fell on me

and the steam rose up

and the curtain took it in,

became heavier,

became warped,

became something else.

I could throw it away.

Could buy a new one

and pretend I'm the kind of person

who takes care of things,

who replaces them

before they fall apart.

But I've been standing here,

looking at the mold,

looking at the warped lines,

looking at the way something

designed to last

doesn't.

I think about the things

I've been holding onto

that are warping too,

that are growing something

I can't quite name,

that are becoming unrecognizable

in the steam of everyday living.

The shower curtain stays.