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Why I Don’t Drink
Because drink is a man with eyes more ocean
than sky, with wit, whose good humor surrounds
him like fragrance, whose suits sit just right
and don’t wrinkle, who wants to pour himself
into you and brings you books, the right books,
and takes you oh lord to a hotel room
above an exotic city and dresses you in silk
just for the pleasure of watching it slide down,
who enters you like a flush of good fortune,
who, it turns out, is married, whoops,
and what he likes anyway
is to hang you over his knees and smack you
till the welts rise up burning,
and actually he reads Danielle Steele and lies
about his age, and you will spend a long time
later bent funny before a mirror, straining
to see the bruises broken out on your backside,
wondering if this was a price you wanted to pay.
And by then, honey, it’s too late.
-Francesca Bell
first appeared in Slipstream
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