Sugar and Shade
The lies we tell.
The little fictions that go so well
with the particular shade of lipstick we’ve chosen
We decide those words don’t hurt anyone,
how badly could it hurt to smile ever so sweetly and say, something , anything.
We must drip , must let fall, the tumbled rounds of ice,
Voice honeyed-thick , cigar smoke and molasses
“Tea, on the porch anyone? Perhaps here in the shade?”
and then it’s
Midnight , magnolia, masquerade
rye gin and lemonade.
Tart, and sour, shifts of power,
the souls we sell,
not even our own.