The dependence of hunger gives way to a sharpened eye, a test subject unsure if it’s in the control or the experiment group. Sugar or water or the choice to leave before someone else’s decision: paint me a reverie like a radio dial or a waiting room’s splintering pique for your name. I want you to take my time. When a succulent is overwatered, it melts from the bottom up, irretrievable from a surplus, watching itself drown on land. I snake a string of pearls around the pot to give it something of the sea to welcome it while wasting; a terminal lucidity in its shrinking. And you take my time kindly by the spoonful, certain to slip the knife from my teeth, and how I love you harder for it. When you’re not looking, I lick the counters: Stray coffee grounds, mistaken yogurt dabs, cracker dust, anything to keep the taste of you in my mouth even while you’re here. We’re here. For now, we draw a bath to forget that RBG is dead, and what was scalding, we let turn cold to know we’re still warm inside. What endurance do we need to carve from ourselves next? I’d carry your child if you’d have me, provided I still can or ever could in these days of petroleum skin on the lake shivering beneath wildfire smoke and Baldwin rightfully back in vogue. Would one be a fortune? Salt! Salt for the going, for the polish of the pearls. Where next the dishes and chairs are placed matters as much as the light and the will to eat.
Some Things That Are Not Love Happen Out of Love
and those are the things for which we must conjure an alternate route in order to survive; acknowledgement is due, but without a whole body, the needs to be born, it is missing bone -mass, about 10%, in the right hip joint. Surprisingly, the spine looks okay. Usually, that’s where girls like you lose the most. [Osteopenically speaking: sure. I can believe that.] I knew I was walking into a room I hadn’t before, and I thought his parents would be home, meaning safety, meaning answers to the three-day absence of the one person my mind could not unknot from. I hunkered Rocinante’s fat ass in place alone affront the house, the poor van’s dyspeptic engine pinging itself cool: maybe their car was in the alley. He wouldn’t suggest you start taking salt tablets, because right now you need to raise your blood pressure, and the salt will do that. And more water. Water, not coffee. The ceiling fan wasn’t moving, but its light was on; the porcelain heads to the pull chains, for once, were still, two baby teeth dangling from a robin’s egg gum. He said he was suicidal, that’s why he’d needed to not talk to me, not see me, or be near seeing me for three days. Consoled that it wasn’t my fault, I said that’s okay and he took my hand and if you’d just raise your left arm and lay your head on top it, I can get a better angle on your heart. [Must it be a jab, sir? Surely, the echo is viable without a jab.] I just wanted to help, let him know the child I was loved the child I saw in him: a fellow loner, befuddled with these extra parts to cover, and a number of hick histories to dissuade. Go team weirdo! A resolute shift in his lean, new kind of press, one I wasn’t sure I wanted not Within fifteen feet, the instinctual reaction is to not move or scream when confronted with this person undoing above inside me the fan light boiling my sight barium green lit copper blue bird with a two-egg nest stenciled on the wall three fan tines because a scream would give away the throat to four pillows to the couch five fingers to a hand where’s mine need to just find home six animal yes and when his face reached my mouth, I kissed it with all I that I was to keep him from lowering back down. It was the one prayer I could manage to summon, and it gave life back to one dead: of course, I made a practice of this worship: it was for love! Of course, I’ve carved my form with something mistaken for vanity I’m sent girls all the time with this problem. But you’re already perfectly thin. Why do you want to be thin? because vain is where this started. It has the subtlety of a sledgehammer, my statement of control, and I’m working on reframing repentance. I was a kid, and I did what I could to help.