it’s true when I tell you
I don’t know what’s good for my health
like wiping my powdered fingers
all over your velvet loveseat
I can’t help but
to make a mess when I eat
leave crumbs all over the bed
blame the mistress who left
the morning before me
each pastry tastes like the last
and each evening the same
where we exchange want
for sloth by the hour
pile dishes up to the ceiling
and drag the mattress onto the floor
keep me here
ask nicely
I’ll pretend I’m not french
absent in appetite of playful cruelty
of course, my mother-
no one could make a beurre blanc
quite to my liking but her
and stupid boy
I know that won’t dissuade
you from trying
in the most edible/oedipal moments
stir with a single finger
Jesus, it’s obvious
we fuck like we weren’t raised right
elbows on the table
mouths open when we moan
If I have to work for love
let the labor of it
take me
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About the Author
Rachel Oyster Kim is a poet, h**ker, and hostess in Brooklyn. Their first chapbook ‘sin sin sin’ is set to release this year.
Image courtesy of the author
