His Cup

Close full to my

near empty

born with bigger cups

for others to drink from

Needful to drain mouthfuls

to keep yourself slaked

how else can you

service others

in my cups

a spinning buzzy place

only stayed in

for a moment

someone

has to be in charge

and its always me

take this and drink

I thought was the offer

the moment given

with promise of return

selfish

drank

and drank

and drank

always trusting

the cup would be offered

again

and again

and again

until I went too deep

stained lips a shade

too dark

and the cup

was buried

under cloth

and ornamentation

a show for

the audience

eager to applaud

to touch

their congratulations

adulations

I didn’t want to

Drain

I wanted to

Quench myself

But there was

Never

Enough

In my cup

Filled

And flowed

And fermented

For another

Future drink

Never

Enough

Without access

I kick

If I can overturn

Catch spilled drops

With my tongue

Then it’s not me

With my hands

Around the stem

But I empty

His cup

That I filled

All the same

Turn

Key in hand

Matches the one to my

Mothers house

My dad isn’t there any more

Another one gone so

It’s hers

But this key

This key

Mine

Fits in my hand

Right away

No carving

Scars next to my finger

Wonder how that is

I walk in the door with

Problems and sadness

Sometimes food and

Poetry of

Questionable

Worth

A room of rugs

I tried to kill

And powders and

Sprays

And guitars that aren’t mine

Unless I want them

Access and trust

And how do I pay

That back with words

And pastries

And promises of love

I can’t prove but can

Imagine

And I do

More every day

How can I trust

This turn

This metal cut

To fit me

When my brain

Screams to change

The fissures that I

Dug myself

Deep and wrong

Can a key

Tooth and bite

Fit a cracked and

Clefted doorway

Can it lock out

What blew off the door

And froze the room

The metal warms

And matches my skin

When I hold it

So maybe

It can’t

But

It can turn

If I can

Sink

Drowning above water

Meant kicking

Thrashing

Digging nails into

Anything close

Dragging down another

Sodden, macerated flesh

Too long wet

pierced by

Points of a disproportionate

Fulcrum

So desperate to lever

To survival

You pivot the hand saving

And push it under

Bends are the least

Of the pain

On shore

You gasp and gag

Guilty

Crying for the crime

Woman slaughter

Suspected

But the suspect

Isn’t drowning

But swimming

Deep

Safe

And sinking

Feels like such

An unexpected bliss

Arms around you

Able to life the weight of

You, wet

Or dry

Sinking

Feels like

The warmth in a

Room with a closed door

Sinking

Feels like

The most natural

Wanted

Hopeful

Risk you can’t imagine

Fighting

Waves of a softer sort

Such a

Delicious

sink