For
today's full moon, the forty-fifth Moon Prize goes to Alexis Rhone Fancher's heart-breaking "Tonight At Last Call, J. Calls Me
His Brown Liquor Girl, Again,"
Tonight At Last Call, J. Calls Me
His Brown Liquor Girl, Again,
by Alexis Rhone Fancher
his voice dark urgency, like when
we were attached.
I let him grip my hips, slow dance
me back to that lust,
to the parking lot, his car,
my tube top a trophy in one hand,
a bottle of Southern Comfort in
his other.
He pours that sweet Joplin down my
throat,
guides my hand between his legs.
Drives
to the Malibu motel with ocean
views,
vibrating beds, and once more, our
delicious thrashing,
complimentary KY where the Gideon should be,
the insomniac waves rocking us
long before my marriage,
and now after.
When I ask him which part of me he
loves best,
J. answers: What’s missing,
tonguing the place where my nipple
had been.
He doesn’t
mind the mastectomy scar,
the one my husband can’t bring himself to touch.
* * * * *
"Tonight At Last Call, J. Calls Me His Brown Liquor Girl,
Again," was first published in Rattle.
L.A.
poet Alexis Rhone Fancher is published in Best American Poetry, Verse
Daily, Plume, The
American
Journal of Poetry, Rattle, Hobart, Diode, Nashville Review, Wide Awake, Poets of Los
Angeles,
The New York Times, and elsewhere.
She’s the author of 5 poetry collections; How I
Lost
My Virginity To Michael Cohen
(2014), State of Grace: The Joshua Elegies (2015), Enter
Here
(2017),
Junkie Wife (2018), and The
Dead Kid Poems (2019). EROTIC,
New & Selected,
publishes
in 2020 from New York Quarterly. A multiple Pushcart Prize and Best
of the Net
nominee,
Alexis is poetry editor of Cultural Weekly. www.alexisrhonefancher.com
👏👏👏 fantastic poem.
ReplyDeleteEach time I read this it's a punch in the gut that brings the lump to the throat.
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