What I brew in me

your tongue no longer tastes. 
Do you believe passion

or security 
ruins the palette?

We once boiled red 
like the most glorious
 
emergency
and at the worst times.

Sip me 
before I’m lukewarm,

before the whistle of regret 
keeps us awake.

Dear love, last night 
I walked in the rain

dressed only in a bathrobe. I bought 
a little kettle on sale

and am convinced our lives
will be better now.

I am not sad 
when I say this. I am not quite

unsad either. 
If there is one thing to be said

about marriage or monogamy 
there is another thing entirely

to be undone. Clean or dirty 
is how I divide the day.

After you leave 
or before you come home.

The more I smell 
of cleaning products

the messier it means I am. 
The toilet, the kitchen sink,

every closet–this house 
is yours to pollute.

I’ve been alone 
in it

for many, many hours. 
Look around.

There’s no trace of me. 
It’s as if

I don’t even exist.