because I sat under the showerhead

rightmost faucet thrown to boiling

trying for an hour to convince myself

it was the water trailing down my arms

not my shaking skin


my wet body is still a prince rupert’s drop

bulletproof in the head but weak

in the trunk even after a decade

of reenforcing glass

and welding silica


I don’t like the word autism

it leaves the taste of lemon cleaner

behind on my tongue from

the very first syllable because some things

just aren’t meant to be in your mouth


it feels foreign for being so simple

root word autos meaning self

automatic autograph autocratic

automaton some days clawing

words from my whirring throat


sometimes I want to hold my brain

aloft like hamlet and point with gusto

see? see that pucker? see this spot

that looks pinker than the rest?

here’s your dripping proof


evidence of all the moments spent

in the cold basin of a tub at birthday parties

hours under a faucet or tearing the carpet

at a standoff with the pills on my sidetable

ten bloody toenails and tissues


but in the eternal meantime

the baby bird says it’s sorry

apologizes for how long

it took for it to emerge

soaked from its broken yolk

and dry itself off


Dina Folgia is an MFA candidate at Virginia Commonwealth University. She was an honorable mention for the 2021 Penrose Poetry Prize, and a 2020 AWP Intro Journals Project nominee. Her work appears (or will be appearing) in Dunes Review, Stonecoast Review, Defunkt Magazine, Kissing Dynamite Poetry, and others. She is a poetry editor for Storm Cellar. Keep up with her work at