“Dear Unfeeling Martinis,” a Poem by JoAnna Novak

Bless you,
stomach pump.

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Bless you,
puce hole.

Bless you,
balcony

and cool
air that finds me

éthylique
on the floor

pushing in
the broken door.

I open it
and hate it

with equal
slosh.

Just wetting the
cork,

bless it.
Shorn

plum buds
pruned

from Thai basil
in Italian terracotta.

I do miss
traveling

with my poison
pen, loving

this cocktail,
lying about

would-be
devils, demons-

trating my vile
behaviors, all

excessed
and how

feckless
I used to

behave
bowing

boiling,
baring

my voluptuous
shoulders.

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From Domestirexia by JoAnna Novak. Copyright © 2024. Available from Soft Skull Press. “Dear Unfeeling Martinis” was previously published in Conjunctions.