I’ve always kept my love cold.
Served only in the presence of special guests.
Served only in cups for someone else’s lips.
What I don’t serve sits in the fridge like old milk.
The dance is habitual.
I bring it home from some place out in the world.
I put it in the icebox.
Half the carton spoils.
I flush it down the toilet and repeat.
My teeth hurt from the crunch of dry cereal.
But sometimes I allow myself to be indulgent.
Usually late at night when no one is around to tell me to be good, or proper.
I screw off the top and give it a whiff, just to be sure—
Spoiled love is worse than envy.
And I serve myself.
A cupless pour is more than I deserve.
I pour for a wretch.
So I pour it free.
I watch it spread recklessly across the surface of the table.
Sliding off the edges in an unruly stream of anxiety and obsessive violation.
Noticing the way it pools onto the vinyl floor.
And even there it continues it’s spread.
Searching like missionaries of renaissance and enlightenment.
I don’t know for what.
I’m in no mood for knowing.
It’s 3am.
I’m in the mood for drinking.
Not at all like a lady or a lord of the court.
Noble and distinguished.
No, in a way that only the perverts would enjoy.
Like an animal.
Head bowed
In prayer or blasphemy it’s difficult to say.
But it doesn’t matter.
I’m alone in the box
Playing with Schrödinger’s Cat
And there are no observers.
My tongue reaches out in deliberation
Insides extending to meet her where she is.
Lying in surrender.
Stretched out openly.
Waiting for a something to draw her in.
Competently and with care.
But I’m not competent.
And this thing I do is not careful.
I spread more than I can manage to absorb.
And I drink.
In drops, not gulps.
Not cups, not pints.
Lapping and lapping.
Until frustration gives way to resigned dissatisfaction.
Then abruptly.
I walk away.
The mess will have to wait.
That’s the translated message of my feet tapping up the creaking steps.
The night is for sleeping.
And what had failed to turn in the chill of storage.
Will be sour in the morning
-E. Rosalia
(Written from a prompt by Vianne Armour)