Three Poems

In the Hotel Room After Our Wedding

Tuxedo stained by champagne
and butter cream icing,
beaded gown now heavy
on my ribs,you were careful
not to yank as you added
more bobby pins to our pile,
a mound of metal,
how did it hold all this hair up,
a smile, fingers dancing,
undoing the bridal stitches.

After It Falls Apart

I chew barely boiled wheat pasta,
drink bottles of wine, fall
asleep with lights on, open books
splayed across my chest, wake up
at 2am to make lists of to-don’ts,
wear dirty jeans to work, reek
of cigarettes though I don’t smoke,
my back meeting bar stools most nights,
inhaling others addictions, my hip bones
forming a bowl of which to catch
mistakes. I find your chin hair
on the sink, I avoid the bathroom
mirror, section off parts
within me that still care,
wait for them to decompose,
my jawline as sharp
as your last words.

The Moment Before the Kiss

You made me spaghetti with jar sauce,
adding it straight to the drained pasta,
no separate pot to warm the clotted paste,
stirring it round, borrowing heat from sticky noodles,
served with a beer and paper napkin, the best meal
I’d eaten in months, chipped plate on a TV tray
and I would not have traded that night
for a cream carrot bisque or a flute of champagne.
the slender strands slurped, praying specks of seasoning
missed the bulls eyes between my teeth, and I loved
the way our feet touched on the floor as we clanked
silverware and celebrated the silence,
the exhale of compatibility.