On Bog Bodies & Ritual

I step over the tub and begin my after-shower ritual. My skin is tight from the hell water I stood under for far too long, so she drinks up the hemp oil when I lap handfuls up my left leg. Slowly, she glistens like asphalt after rain.

I move the rough of my hands against the soft parts of me — gentle-like.

Yesterday, I stood in front of the long mirror, dripping with golden brown. I sometimes dream of diving into a pool of honey hemp.

Today, I think about Ireland. I think of Bog Bodies, the ones back in that Dublin museum. Parts of bodies…