in the shower
me and hooks have a bad history,
mostly because i own
too many sweatshirts
and not enough hooks
and they always end up
crumpling under the weight
of loose-fitting insecurity.
but those are hooks of
adhesive and plastic,
made cheap by the
constant weight of the world
that's too heavy
for any hook
to hold up.
my shower contains
one hook, held to the ceramic wall
by one translucent suction cup
clinging desperately to
the smooth white surface
and fighting not to let the water in,
which would loosen it
and slide it down
to the faucet
where it would crash
and lose its purpose.
it does its job very well,
hoisting my washcloth high
above the roiling sea known as
the drain.
it is held up by its own fear
of failure.
much like me,
its worth comes from its success.
and the best form of success,
i'm told, is continuity.
continue to hold up that weight,
continue to stand, shoulders out;
face the world
and refuse to let the water in.