Kimberly Lambright​

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On the Bowery​

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The night’s a ball of yarn.

I’m careful with you.

I try to be a minor tower of indigo.

I try to book our booth of sweet potatoes.

My mind is sauce.

You’ve championed

me, we’re at some hotel

for a final drink. Let’s decide,

you say, my third eye a candle above us.

Let’s note the myths it took to get us here.

I feel my point of view changing, my abs

holding my will forward. I don’t

have much more to give

but you can have it all (we guess

at kissing, your face in my neck).

This place, it’s been held for us. We make

a baseline, we get lost in the floral furniture,

its lovebird history. My drink is Blue Jay, yours is Cardinal.

I didn’t know my heart would be this heavy

when I finally put it down.

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