I Wish I Was Blue Moon
I wish I could know that warmth
Not the one in the sky
The one in his long, slender
hand—lanky ringed fingers wrapped
perfectly around the sweaty, amber
bottle.
I watch those inked tendrils
lift the end of expectation
to his evoking lips, he gulps
down a devotion to liquid
courage
liquid
drips down the corner
of his lips, lip of the bottle
The muscular sponge that rests
in his hot
mouth makes its way around
the rim of his bottle, his mouth.
A luscious tuft
of brown parts in the middle
and something else comes out: a sound
I think, but I’m looking at the
half moons
that are filling up the curvature
of his jaw, my god,
he’s smiling, laughing
into the hole
of everything I wish I was.
He takes another drink, this one
longer, and I think I see the icey
yeast smuggle down his
throat
I wish I could know that warmth,
the roughly smooth
texture of his
esophagus against my shivering
skin. Just let slide through the liquid love
on my way to make a home
in his body, snuggle up
to his ribs. Never,
did I think I’d be envious
of a bottle in a bar, in some
hot man’s hand.
Bottle to mouth,
can it be me next?
Michaela Emerson is a poet, writer, teacher, and editor from Texas. She has an MFA in Poetry and a Certificate of Teaching Creative Writing from Antioch University Los Angeles. She is the incoming Editor-in–Chief for Frontier Poetry and the former Editor-in-Chief of Lunch Ticket Literary Journal. Her work has appeared in Polemical Magazine, Verses, Lunch Ticket, and elsewhere.
