tsunami

the waves that swirl into my shower drain
are pacific in their cruel tides
and caribbean in their unabashed heat.

it’s the time of the year
when showers do not wash away
sweat and sugary smiles
but instead assault the skin.

bullets or droplets,
tearing open my summer
to reveal my new year truth:
i have changed from who i was,
but i am not who i resolved to be.

i am more sensitive
than i have been,
so i sit and cradle myself
as needed.

i’ll let the water dance through my scalp
as her fingers once did.

Scarlett Kamga is a first-year student at USC studying psychology and law. She has been writing poetry since she was a child and has too many diaries to count. When she’s not writing, you can find her at the beach or on the phone with her parents (whom she misses dearly). You can follow Scarlett on Instagram here.