Poem

In the gym locker room, steam curls like secrets

we never shared. You towel off, oblivious,

your back a map of freckles I could navigate blind.

I pretend to tie my laces,

counting the vertebrae down your spine

like steps to a cliff I won’t jump from.

Later, in the mirror at home,

I practise saying your name without flinching—

a syllable that tastes like sweat a…