You scrubbed yourself over me,
making me feel dirty, a wash of panic
in soapy suds and irritating flakes,
a seventies child with memories
of you in the classroom and digging deep
in the dirt of my stomach to quell
the beast of panic, pushed harder
over and over again till people thought
perhaps I was driven, maybe I was,
but it came from the feelings of being unworthy,
push harder, I may as well be an unborn child
in the womb, push harder,