Borrowed Corkscrew
She sits
on that frayed cigarette burn carpet
right beside me.
So close our tired feet
come together.
Everything bent at the knee
like a curve in the road
you ride the failing
brake into.
That borrowed corkscrew sloppy way
the cork breaks off before
we ever get to the wine.
Both avoiding the bed.
As though it is something
you can’t come
back from.