LIBATIONS

i have never been to cognac heaven—for all the ways i fell in love with liquor, i never found taste buds that lined up with brandy’s woodsharp sweetness. but i imagine my lover and me, floating in amber sky among liquorspun sugar clouds, slicking honey across each others’ backs just to lick it up. then we turn our attentions to other types of spirits—vanilla and spice between one set of lips, calvados flowing through the other. flesh softens to mealy nectarines; i become rapt with fantasy, fermenting in my want. there are decrees that would dictate i temper this type of thirst, shove it down into the abyss of brain matter which holds memories i no longer wish to find—and i could relent, were i intimidated by my own desires. but baby, i want you.