The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Spoil by Alyse Bensel

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Vinegar and Honey

You are insect today,
flighty but easily seduced
with sugar. I drink wine
in bed, empty the litterbox,
anything a pregnant woman
should not do. I lace vinegar
with dish soap to cure all
the sweetness in my kitchen
and ward off fruit flies
drawn to rot. I dress
my unrepentant feast,
my mouth full of honey
that dilutes the spoiled wine
I held too long under my tongue.
Sundays, I am on my knees.
Evenings, I break my fast
with a meal that quiets
my sharp thirst. I scour
the house. I read your letters
empty as shed cicada skins,
a memory of the shiny nymph
that fled for its short ticking life.
Once I make a crown
from those exoskeletons
I know you will mistake
me for one of your own.
You will linger despite
the dangerous cold to cry
your dying tymbal song.

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