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Drunken Master
Roy Wang

Lips met lip; I drank a genie out
of a bottle and revealed a magic mirror;
Its nostalgic facade pierced me and asked if

I missed the taste of condensation; drops
of savory dew that made the room feel
like the scent of new winter;

I used to pour fireplaces into a cool glass
and watch the solid cold dissolve in oiled heat;
ice cream hearts in a searing skillet;

Honey-thick sheets mixed in with
quick bitters and an overly sweet
iloveyou, off-brand;

 

Rubbed my hand on the back of a warm neck
and whispered all three wishes,
but the spirit had long gone.

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