Bar Napkin Poem for a Cuban Pool Shark
I keep the cork from our French Bordeaux
movie night on the kitchen counter by my sweet
cigarettes and your lost lighter, our shrine
to Marlboro, as if you might drunkenly climb
past brick beehives and up my fire escape,
careful not to let the orange rust stain
your blue-black slacks that always smell
like spilled gin and lime juice and my rose oil
perfume, as if you’ll come to my window
like a drought-thirsty, flutter-hungry
hummingbird, knowing I’ll always feed you,
say you have eyelashes like a movie star.
Don’t you believe me when I say
I want you to crush and grind
my bones into short fat lines,
lift me from the squeaky teal
coffee table by the little plant collection
you didn’t think I could keep alive? You don’t
think I could keep us alive, but my no
is a bright red ribbon. Cut me with the
biggest scissors you carry—I won’t bleed,
I’ll beg you to come banging on my door
at 2:08 am with a shaky handwritten bar napkin
poem and a spare pool token peace offering
and I’ll hold you and you’ll tell me you miss me
and I will say likewise and we will kiss like two bricks
with the mortar of our teeth meant to hold us there forever.
Beza Alford
Beza Alford is an Ethiopian-American poet raised in Inverness, Florida. She kindles a passion for misused semicolons, unnecessary hyphens, and decadent imagery. She graduated with a degree in creative writing from Florida State University, and longs quietly for lovely Tallahassee from Kansas City, MO. She experiences frequent road rage, leaves dishes in the sink overnight, and is, nonetheless, wonderful. The two books on her nightstand are Joan Didion’s Play It As It Lays and Toni Morrison’s Sula.
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