My Body in the Temple

Halfway through the session, I become awareof a full bladder and nothing else.All that is holy eclipsedby flesh. pant in claustrophobiabetween lady who snoresand gum-chomper, suddenly surroundedby bodies. remember how,during my last pregnancy, gurgle of stomachs,the smell chicken-à-la-king breath around me,the man clearing his nose into throat,sickened me to such devilish frantic irritationI had go on temple hiatus.Sometimes body too heavy.Like now—my bladder, an overripe melon,makes it hard stand suck allowthe matron pass aisle.Counting minutes, counting stagesin ceremony, pray apologyto woman whose name foldedin pocket. An ordinance requires body,I tell her. This what you get.When it's over—when I've changed clotheswith sloppy rush found bathroom,I emerge so much lighter this placefeels airy bright. lovethis liminal circus, foyer glorysmelling polyester, earnest,so strange. On way out,I take time, stepping tenderly arounda bright spirit awkward old bodykneeling tie her sister's shoes.