A LOVE POEM

             I’m not hungover from the liquor                                     I’m hungover from the affair and

a dry white that wasn’t so dry                              or so white

                                                                               it was cloudy and milky and maybe closer

                                                                               to honey but

                                                                               honeys never betrayed me like this

Honey, I’ve swallowed            my tail                   like a feverish boa

                                                                                            I’m confused, honey

             I have the hots like

                                       the hot hots

I don’t like the word                                              withdrawal

                                                                                  I prefer horny

                                                                                                or decaying

How about this?

              I’ll release my affections

                                                    inch by inch

                                                                  pry myself open

                                                                                           my lust is my tool

                                                                                                        like damaged sheet metal meeting

                                                                                           the Jaws of Life

                                                                                 kiss me

                                                       and I’ll be better

Honey, I’m not hungover from the liquor                                                or the wine

             I’ve been guzzling down garbage                                     for god knows

                                                                                                       how many days now

my body is a Brita filter

my body is Jesus                         turning wine into water

my body is a broken bottle

                                                   in the hand of a violent drunk

                                                   holding onto my neck for dear life

The hunter has become the hunted, here                                         I’m hungover and helpless

                                                                         Honey, I’m prey

                                                                         I’m the snake biting its own tail

my poison is my antidote and                        I’ve heard it’s quite popular

Honey, I’m still                         a broken-hearted drunk                                       the day after drinking

                                                  I’m looking for an excuse            to rub my cheek

                                                                                                       against the neck

                                                                                                       of a beautiful woman

                        and in this light

                        I just think

                        you’re so beautiful

Natalee Cruz is a Fiction and Poetry candidate at The New School. Her work has appeared in The Spectacle, The Ilanot Review, and The Thing Itself. Her chapbook "I Have Seen The Bluest Blue" is forthcoming from Ugly Duckling Presse in 2022.