the candlelight strikes
your bald patch, gleaming
cold and bright like a fish egg
you talk of getting the pasta
aioli but I hear areola
I haven’t been touched
you ramble on
about the injustice of sales tax
as the shadows in your nose
become deep, strange caverns
you talk about
soft-shell turtles and the perfect seasons
for growing tomatoes.
with your smile curling like a flaccid plantain
and from the wiry snags in your beard,
I can tell you’ve been stealing
from your mother again
the world, you say, is a wolf with
shrapnel fur and broken howl
your brain is a kaleidoscope of snails
quietly bickering and so I am a
desirous tub of salt
your life is a sack of potatoes, I say
and you have the worst ankles
you choke, I feel the wine
trapped in your throat like a
vial, my teeth humming
in the cool rust of whiskey
one of us is getting larger and
one of us is shriveling up
and I’m going to show you
my garden of weeds tonight.
More poetry at Used Furniture.
Fantastic! Thanks for this Armine.
This is truly a perfect description of every 3+ year relationship. Vivid.