Caesarean
by Caleb Johnson
In our shower I peel tape
holding together the edges
of your stomach, terrified
you’ll come undone.
Once free the scar smiles.
Your eyes are boiled eggs.
Unhurried seconds go past
without response to voice or hand.
We all die, I gather,
perhaps amid a simple task,
naked as we arrived, rinsing glue
off a lover’s puckered skin.