4 poems
door in our place i never open out of fear and too much want touch the knob — i am shocked
sounds like a party in there but where is my invitation? missing out doesn’t scare me
sometimes, it’s open a crack scents from the kitchen waft my favorite dish on the menu
i give up. nothing better to do splayed on gray wool, rubbing nothing matches their rhythm
the guests tire, it swings open streamers and confetti spilling must be my job to clean ’em up
a girl’s gotta eat, grow big & strong food becomes fuel fired brick oven
i have reservations, my seat’s set aside gin martini stirred— small coin of lemon.
white pressed linens red leather cushions polished steel fixtures scarred marble veins
amuse my palate gift from the chef we kindly request: no sharing allowed
a girl’s gotta eat, wash away fears enjoy my choices wet lips, appetite
taste first with eyes each flavor distinct: salt, grit, acid, burn hungering for it all
the first bite builds anticipation of more— a mindless chewing, my posture softens
i lick your plate clean it’s been taken care of have i saved any room? no, some other time
i’m sorry i bumped into you. i thought you were a mirror. your clear surface showed what they saw of me then.
parties are meant for diffusion, but we focused instead. twisting the lens to almost make out what was there.
i’m sorry i couldn’t touch you. i thought you were a mirror. i feared leaving greasy prints for everyone to see.
museums of mailboxes and phones reveal past and future connections. a present — behind smudged display glass.
i’m sorry you didn’t see me waving at you in the city. i thought you were a mirror. you weren’t yet waving back.
being gay is hard sometimes. hotel bathrooms get steamy, you can’t always get the right angle before the image blurs.
i’m sorry we were interrupted. i thought you were a mirror. i never dreamed anyone would walk through it and shatter the glass.
i need to move but i can’t sleep. some things aren’t done yet. i’m hiding from sunrise, from men, under blankets and cardboard towers.
i’m sorry i looked so long. i knew you were a mirror, but i couldn’t spot the vanishing point. some reflections distort; yours perfects.
the black bottle kept just out of reach of those who fear my obsidian liquid
a toxicology report: deadly in large doses but taken with care the hurting heals us
sure, share a nightcap wince with me in pain we need this to sting no easier, knowing it
small sips are sweet deeper drinks, bitter stone fruit can’t mask a burning this intense
scared to let you see me like this — red eyes pierce pewter framing you want, no, need to
as the spirit fully hits there’s no stopping this drink. the cork is broken now