When I Say It’s Time to Go
I get an MRI before my
bikini wax, take my
arthritis meds with a
martini, take my fries
with ketchup. Leave
the bar early. Some days
I can do heels and others
I can even leave the house
in them. Tell me something:
Is it that my body expires
after dark? Do you love
the thrill of a speeding
cab home when the pain
peaks? Is this what you
thought young love would
look like? Only you, me,
and Aleve after midnight.
When I say home I mean in
bed rubbing my legs together
like a silent cricket. Friction.
Heat. Small relief I’m sorry
I invited into our bed.
I save my love for Dr. Scholl’s,
cancelled plans, heating pads
so hot they char the sheets.
Chrissy Martin is a PhD student at Oklahoma State University and a recent graduate from the Poetry MFA program at Columbia College Chicago. She is the Poetry Editor for Arcturus and an Editorial Assistant for Cimarron Review. Her work has appeared in Amazon's Day One, Voicemail Poems, (b)OINK, and Lit.Cat. Find her at chrissymartinpoetry.com.
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