On Discovering Masturbation:

I pressed my soft against the slip-safe floor of the tub.
I pressed myself against the jacuzzi jets, the wall, myself.
The mountains, undressing in the fall’s chill, watched.

I didn’t know I didn’t want that part of me
that felt so good scratching against ceramic
like sandpaper, not yet trying to whittle myself down

to the dolls I played with at Alex’s house
while everyone ate dinner. I cleaned and I cleaned
and I cleaned. The water flew over the tub’s lip

like freedom, like imagination, like the mountains
change outfits season after season and we never
stop thinking they’re beautiful. So beautiful

I get jealous now that I’m a few years older,
gripping too hard when I touch myself
as if it could just fall off, like a dead leaf.

But I was just ___ and alone with my naked body
in the bath. I let the whole room love me–the suds,
the drain, the pale lights–it felt good. Yes, it felt good.

Blaine Purcell is a writer from Greensboro North Carolina. They are a recent graduate of UNC Chapel Hill and hope to begin an MFA in the fall of 2025. When away from the page, you can catch them learning to vogue or knee-deep in video games. They have previously been published in Beaver Magazine.