Being Unreliable

Being Unreliable: Before Her Final

Overdose

 ...in any case, in talking

about the past we lie with every breath we draw.

William Maxwell

So Long, See You Tomorrow

I missed the final setting of your moon like it was

what I intended all along, brash that tomorrow

would be offered up with the same come as

you  may faith as any yesterday reclaimed

and it was only later I would bring my tongue

with its licked- clean- the- bowl- I- did- yes-

I- did the broken bowl you know the one

the one in the cupboard you slid into the dust

of the decade and didn't consider it

again until there was tea in it tea just

the way you like it the way you always

liked it (two salada two sugars two teaspoons

of canned milk) (steep three to five

minutes) and this time you couldn't

complain at the pale tint or the unmelted

grains you simply let me stir and stir

and lift it to your lips and a dribble here

and there and the odd drop onto the sheet

would maybe please you on seeing it there

like its own little moon and depending

on the rumple it could be entirely 

full of itself  or not as I pulled it up 

and them simply over your wiped clean chin.