“Dear Unfeeling Martinis,” a Poem by JoAnna Novak

 Bless you,

stomach pump.

Bless you,

puce hole.

Bless you,

balcony

and cool

air that finds me

éthylique

on the floor

pushing in

the broken door.

I open it

and hate it

with equal

slosh.

Just wetting the

cork,

bless it.

Shorn

plum buds

pruned

from Thai basil

in Italian terracotta.

I do miss

traveling

with my poison

pen, loving

this cocktail,

lying about

would-be

devils, demons-

trating my vile

behaviors, all

excessed

and how

feckless

I used to

behave

bowing

boiling,

baring

my voluptuous

shoulders.

From Domestirexia by JoAnna Novak. Copyright © 2024.

Via Literary Hub