taken neat

the night was blond. she pours herself wine and two whiskeys, ‘for you boys,’ and i tumble
those three words around my mouth with an ice cube and fresh lime juice. i tell them my
secrets and cut them in half. he keeps his wedding ring on when he fingers me. the metal
warms up like it’s been left in the sun to pool molten down my thighs. i wonder if they’ve
done this before. i might not be the first but i can be the favourite. she fits over my hips the
way blood clots. the bed three times the size of mine. the bed an entrance wound. the bedful
of heat teeth. i come best as a shared experience. they don’t hold me afterwards. the angel’s
share dries sticky as appetite. the blade loves the hand that holds it. i might not be the first. i
will be the favourite. they do drive me home, all the way up my driveway. i sit in the middle.
i don’t have to choose who to turn towards. my ribs have never felt so empty. the car stops. i
lean into the front seats to kiss them both. i watch as they kiss each other and twist the knife.

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Zia Ravenscroft is an actor, drag king, and writer in Te Whanganui-a-Tara who has recently completed a BA in English literature and theatre. His poetry has previously been published in Starling, Cordite, and Bad Apple, among others.