you put your hands on my hip bones
my stomach twinges and twists
these messy hormonal tendencies
make small gestures so dangerous
after months without your touch
i down a glass of hennessy
i hear your itching voice
it’s quiet and poised:
“you don’t drink, right? because of your mother?”
there’s a roach in my throat, baby
i have to wash it down
i scribble a new psalm
devotions of my degeneracy
a touch from your finger
and entire organs writhe
making knots and patterns
this painful breath isn’t mine
oh darling, you left
before you could teach me
the soft words to untangle
this stomach acid. baby
say,
“that’s not acid, that’s just the alcohol
you’ve broken your promise
bones and all”