Richard Silken

you and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. the booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. someone raises their glass for a toast. is that the hand of judgment or the hand of mercy? the bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. the drink in front of you has already been paid for. drink it, the bartender says. its yours, you deserve it. it's already been paid for. somebodys paid for it already. theres no mistake, he says. its your drink the one you asked for, just the way you like it. how can you refuse? hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. someones doing all the talking but no ones lips move. consider the hairpin turn.

Excerpt from poem You are Jeff


Written by Richard Siken



http://yupnet.org/siken/
http://richardsiken.blogspot.com/