Five Drinks Later By Schuyler Peck

Five Drinks Later

A six-pack of raspberry hard lemonade
sits on the kitchen counter
because neither one of us
wants you to throw up your first time.
We don’t care what this looks like,
the truth of the matter is, it’s fucking delicious
and we open the curtains to watch the snow glow
under the starlight.
This is joy, slurring its words
and looking at its lover
as if for the first time,
swept off our feet.
Happy, making drunk love in the dark
and falling asleep before eleven.
You sighed the second
your body touched the bed;
smiling harder than any class picture
I’d ever seen.
And it was there
I felt my best,
watching you grin to the ceiling,
swinging your hands side to side,
and saying my name
like it was a song.
In the morning you mutter,
I love you, I love you,
sweet girl of mine,
let’s do it all over again.

By Schuyler Peck

Biography:

Born of college-ruled notebooks and the smell of lemon grass, Schuyler Peck was raised in New Jersey, but she’ll never tell you that. Instead, she’ll tell you there are pieces of her everywhere; planted in trees and shipped off to the moon. Her poetry, however, can be found in her book, A Field of Blooming Bruises, Words Dance Publications, Literary Sexts V. 2, Rising Phoenix Press, JuxtaProse Magazine, and schuylerpeck.tumblr.com. She loves you.

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