Sara, the Last Time {Alyssa Yankwitt}
Pale as the Miami moon, her skin, Ketamine-white,
as though the pigment of her face had dissolved
with each snorted line; her eyes, wild
as the lights pulsating across the dance floor, Sara
put her head on my shoulder, whispered,
I think I wanna do some more.
Her limbs loose as rubber bands,
she leaned into me, unaware of the withered
Haitian woman half asleep on a chair, head resting
on the mirror, paper towel ready in hand;
unaware of the drag queens gossiping
around the toilet, ignoring the "One Person at a Time"
sign taped to the door.
Barely able to balance on her stilettos, Sara staggered
toward the bathroom stall, her eyes no longer spinning,
but fading, like candles taking their last breath.
She locked herself in; straight through the straw
the Special K shot, silver-bullet style
right into her bloodstream.
