He Was Vegetarian and Polyamorous; Now He Eats Duck and Plays Mind Games
A poem
I drank too much wine at William’s fancy dinner party,
more than I’ve drunk in years. After the meal, our toes brushed
under the table, but instead of pulling away, we began to swirl —
insert our toes between each other’s, grasp, pull, and push…
For hours I stayed, held captive by this play.
We shouldn’t have needed to be sneaky.
We should have been able to hold hands
on top of the table, like we used to,
for everyone in the world to see.
But I take his silent cue, banished
to secrecy and subtlety. No direct words,
just intense eye contact, and now this game
in which I, stupidly, engage.
He still uses the term “polyamorous”
the way he used to use “vegetarian”
but at dinner, he serves and eats duck
while I eat the vegetables
and drink too much wine
which quiets the part of me
that knows better than to stay.
