Tonight's Poet Corner: My Humble Guest
My Humble Guest by Belinda Roddie delirious, she sat across from me with her brow askew, her lips lopsided, her eyes as red as the carpet swallowing the half-mad mites beneath our boots. I offered her a glass of noir. she licked the stuff from the vessel like a deprived hound. when she was done, she stared at me for more. I poured her more. she begged for more. I knew that, if I catered to her, she'd crumble like pastry in her chair. nothing but crumbs spilling from her funeral attire. the horns outside were blaring. she was far from me. her skin as mottled as the tablecloth. her hair as white as the chandelier's quartz. I raised the bottle to my lips and drank. Wine stained my ascot in violet hues as if a blossom were bursting from my chest. she watched. she waited. I poured her no more. I gave her no more.