Love Every Drop

Tilts the bottle one final time. Saturated.
Marinated. Later she will smash
her grandfather's accordion for its judgement.
A healthy person drinks until drunk. She until
the drink is gone.
Every Last Drop

Orgasm interrupted. Distance knocking broke
his concentration, yet forth the fluid flowed.
Now he wipes sticky semen from curling
stomach hairs, trying to dispel
lingering dissatisfaction, vague
residue of Catholic shame.
Every Last Drop.

Shoe shine boy for fifty years.
Bankers and judges have sat
in that chair. No, it's true what you
heard; even the Dalai Lama.
Creaking knees. Aching back. He will retire
today. But first he opens one last small tub
of Kiwi Black Gloss,
and uses it with industrial relish.
Every Last Drop.

Two deep breaths. Final heave.
Triceps screaming. Unclip
your safety rope as you lie
panting. This life. This great fat lemon awaiting
your clench and squeeze. Wrangle
all its bittersweet juice.
Every. Last. Drop.