Post Mortem


Just so you know

that wasn’t apple juice in my tumbler

it was whiskey.

Once I used ice to curb

the rush of hot liquid down my throat

but the cubes melted so quickly

You might have noted the opacity,

So I started drinking it warm.

When you poured me decafe

late in the afternnon

I gave it to the little Norfolk Pine

you brought to green my living space.

and that woman with the lazy smile and

the plaits pulled back tight across her head

was not my masseuse.

Listen, I know you meant well—I love you too

but there’s no fun accelerating through a curve

if you can already see around the corner.

James Kerns