Brittany Cavallaro

Evidence

four plates before we had three and the tumbler
from Edinburgh I slipped your new tie pin

into held the glass above one eye
like a dirty fish anyway it was the dish rack wet

I pressed my fist to my mouth your hands
cut your lips thinned my own feet were bare

you said you’re crying like I’d fallen and spilled
into little tinsels of gold delighted my mother handing

me ceramic foxes salt cellars scalloped plates
too small to eat on she saw the basement flat I’d taken

alone or that next year some afternoon
wet hands and us so poor your red misery eyedropped

into every glass of water extravagant like wine I ate
I kept my head through rolling heat blood cylindered

and sold the summer nothing unfurled from its homes
until what was one plate, one cup you eyeing me satisfied

a fork pulling at the piece before you is it done is it done

by lauren