Drink and Be Mary

I would take your fork
and silence your groans
through grinding teeth
with my hand.
I would guide you to my table,
if you were hungry,
to dine with me.
First with spoons,
cupped to catch the beams
from a skyscraper in the city
that moves with flecks
of inorganic dust.
We would not eat,
but we would dine happily.

We would sit
by an indigo ocean
in a rowboat beached onshore.
We would drink from oily
oyster shells and make
the water as salty
as history made our tools,

but you deserve better.
I would lead you with one
hand on the crook
of your arm or neck,
the intimate places
no one wants to think about.
Into nothing; onto nothing
in the center of everything.
The flame of the sun
slides off the moon
and bleeds yellow watercolor
into our purple sky

and onto our hands.
We would stain ourselves
with moonbeams and beams
of trees through the dirt.
We would have all of our minerals
and smile with fingernail grins.

 Based very loosely on Margaret Atwood's work. Gooooodnight. -.+