Why I Go Kristi Wilson
When you drink you have less winter about you. It is there, of course, camouflaged by the easy warmth of whisky. I am greedy for you then, for every word, for hot bursts of breath smacking my thirst of skin when you speak four inches from my face. You erase time. By the time we leave, intoxication is complete. I have drowned in it. Surfacing is as bitter as ice.
Last Call Kristi Wilson
My eyes are burning a hole in a bit of conversation, bound as I am to this group. I cling to the curtains fly-like and waiting, treading the tip of a once-cold cocktail and listening. Listening. Teach me how to speak, how to kill a taboo, to lean in and yes – to touch.
Kristi Wilson is a senior at UTA, and has poetry forthcoming in Ilya's Honey and Borderlands. She recently received honorable mention in the Dallas Poets Community's national poetry competition.