When You Think You’re Clean (poetry)

~ M. Ashley

Taoists say there are 36,000
Goddesses and gods that reside in
The body. And they leave if
You don’t wash with the dawn because
They are disgusted. Sometimes
I am disgusted with my body to
Myself for all it has been touched and
Touched and spewed on so I
Don’t shower regularly enough unable to
Abide the touching of myself.

Or I remember the many times
My pimp almost drowned me in
A claw foot bathtub for some
Low earning insubordination and
How drowning makes your head feel
Huge and tight–a meat balloon ready
To burst meat and blood and
Offal all over the white tiled
Bathroom walls and it’s so
Hard to bathe regularly too.

But I wash my hands after I go
To the bathroom every time and
I hear all 36,000 goddesses and
Gods who have fled my filthy body to
My clean pink and pruny hands
Rejoice in the little cold baths
With honey soap and
A gentle toweling.

Personally I don’t think the goddesses and
Gods are so offended by human filth. I asked my favorite
God about it once and he
Agreed. He said, “You humans–
To a god, even when you think
You’re clean
You ain’t.”

Which is nice to know on days
When the ghosts of Johns and pimp
Make cleanliness in my eyes and
The 72,000 god eyes inside me
Next to impossible.

-M. Ashley

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Published by M. Ashley

I am an essayist and poet. My work has been rejected by some of the finest journals in America. Fortunately, it also gets accepted from time to time and has appeared in equally fine journals such as Word Riot, Inlandia, Brew City Magazine, and SageWoman, among others.. In 2002, I won the Academy of American Poets Prize for Vanderbilt University.
 For no good reason, I possess an unnecessarily dark humor which is why being third generation California Inland Empirian delights me so. My gods are weird. I once won $350 for writing a smartassed essay on “why the wise use of water is important in my daily life”. I am undoubtedly the Greek god Hermes’ special snowflake. I’m pretty sure I got into college via a series of fortuitous clerical errors.
 When I had to grow up and get a real job, I decided against it and stayed a writer. I have worked many odd—and I mean odd—jobs to support my habit: PR writer for country music hopefuls, resume massager, WalMart fitting room attendant and switchboard operator, and telephone psychic, just to name a few.
 I am also albino. That's why my psychic gifts are so strong. I traded in my pigment for magical foresight, because that's how it works. It gets all technical. Trust me. That's totally how it works.

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