minimums
the bartender tells me there’s a minimum/ about a bar trick
guaranteed to get you free/ liquor or a black eye. I tell him
I’m no good/ at taking chances- that I’ll have
anything with bourbon /and honey until/ my cheeks
are rye and I am three drinks blue dark/
deep. I’m so sick of kissing soured/ mouths
wondering if you’re single now/ if somebody
is loving you/ the way I used to/ if it is
less than/ greater than/ equal to-
this is all I think of / on my walk home/ losing count
of the stars/ and how does that song go? the one where
she/ says heaven is all for you/ has been here all along/
is an eyelash wish- honey/ is that true/ is infinity/ a minimum?
in the morning maybe/ I’ll call you/ tell you I dreamed
of monarch migrations again/ of the unquantifiable.
the bartender tells me there’s a minimum/ about a bar trick
guaranteed to get you free/ liquor or a black eye. I tell him
I’m no good/ at taking chances- that I’ll have
anything with bourbon /and honey until/ my cheeks
are rye and I am three drinks blue dark/
deep. I’m so sick of kissing soured/ mouths
wondering if you’re single now/ if somebody
is loving you/ the way I used to/ if it is
less than/ greater than/ equal to-
this is all I think of / on my walk home/ losing count
of the stars/ and how does that song go? the one where
she/ says heaven is all for you/ has been here all along/
is an eyelash wish- honey/ is that true/ is infinity/ a minimum?
in the morning maybe/ I’ll call you/ tell you I dreamed
of monarch migrations again/ of the unquantifiable.
McCaela Prentice is a Maine Writer and graduate of St. Lawrence University. She is currently living/writing in New York City with her betta fish Skeletor. Her poetry has previously been featured in Ghost City Review, Lammergeier Magazine, and Honey & Lime Literary Magazine. McCaela was also an honorable mention in the 2019 Small Orange Emerging Woman Poet Honor.