The Ones in the Hotel Drawer

by: Gregory Sherl

Just pluck the feathers from my shoulder blades.
Lightness. Noise chopped into moans.
There are ghosts everywhere & if you catch
them in the right light, they will become genies.
Three wishes they say. Nothing more.
Even when I am standing next to a wishing well,
I am wishing I were standing next to a bigger
wishing well. I wish for longer pillow talk.
I wish for softer pillows. I wish that one twice.
In the beginning there was so much caffeine
everything ran backwards. It was like a movie,
Adam growing younger, Eve less pregnant
until she’s no longer bleeding every month.
Intimacy was never supposed to feel this way,
attached to an oven timer. There wasn’t an oven yet.
God was confused. The devil was confused.
Gabriel said How will I use this sword now?
The world ended & then it started over again.
In the beginning it was the sequel.
The sequel always sucks. Imagine how good
the first one could have been.
Still, she can put her feet behind her ears
& that’s a miracle. Fuck that wine shit
I tell Him. You really outdid yourself here.
But still, these sequel days, these bipolar
heartbeats. I know I am living incorrectly
when it’s easier breathing through text messages.
Sometimes rain is hotter than pavement
but sometimes rain piles on top of pavement.
I ask God Are floods man-made? God is always
a busy signal. I never have questions
about angels, not even angles or anglers.
Instead of thinking, I always leave her
on my fingers.