A Party

The wine soaked air curls
Around my hips,
My hips that once bore life
And now bears only blood
And the thrill of empty promises.

The jeweled sky pays homage to Van Gogh
While I chat with the lyrics and rhythm
Of a song I liked once.
This party has an impressive guest list.
Ambition
Lust
Greed
Credibility
Their wives eye my knock off bag
Skeptically.
It’s not really a cloud purse,
But it is made of a fine sewn mist.
I hold my head high.
I produced a rose in 16 million colors.
No one here has done that.

The night is younger than I.
The breeze is crusted with carcinogens
And no one,
I mean no one,
Wants to talk about it.
My husband puts his arm around my waist
And I remember planting the seed,
Praying for a flower I could only dream of.
Now the rain is acid,
Tastes like sour candies,
And I fear for the future of flowers.