Put a child lock
on the liquor cabinets,
and fasten me
to your kitchen sink.
Watch me drift slowly down the drain.
Watch shattered wine glass
stick between fragments of me
in the garbage disposal blades.
Watch broken sentences
arch over our faulty plumbing lines.
Watch pieces of you stick strictly to silver spoons.
Take the skin of your Cuban
and roll a noose around my neck
to yank the blaze from my throat
into the bile of my slip-ups
that pool on the kitchen floor
from an unattached pipe
that just can’t seem to keep
her pretty little mouth shut.
Penetrate my thoughts from behind
and throw plates at the walls
of my shoulder blades
when you need to hear the question again
because it doesn’t matter what she thinks
if her face is nothing but
a cracked serving platter.
Force your hands
onto the authority of my hipbones.
Pierce your wedding ring
through my belly button for safekeeping.
Decorate my body
with super glue
so your words can stick to me.
Sort me in
with the pots and pans
so your voice
doesn’t have to clang against
my eardrums anymore.
Reorganize me
again and again
until you can’t wash the stain
out of my bottom lip anymore.
Pour me a drink
while I drip Taps into the sink
because when I realize
water isn’t strong enough
to make me forget how blood
runs so much thicker over my skin,
tears begin to slip so easily off my eyelashes.
Let my death
be a pail
brimmed with ex-lovers’
cries for attention.
Let me kick the bucket
this time
when they begin to drown out
the sound of my own.
Let me be a reminder
that not all channels
you lose yourself down
have to be man made.