Dinner party by Sophia Georghiou

The bed is filled with wax
and your arms are wax
stuck around my wax back

I think about cutting them
off
so I can keep you around

I’d give you my tongue in exchange
and let you put it inside the clock,
move the hands back
so we have more time to stick

and eventually rot

You’ve proved that you’re everything
but half-arsed
always behind me, every hour on the hour
ready to eat

Told you I’d stay for the entire evening,
let you turn the room
into a pop-up restaurant

I’ll go out and get the matches,
an appropriate record
and a dessert we can heat up
(the kind that melts in the centre)

By the time I come back
the room will have grown darker

I’ll be a body-con dress with an empty glass in her hand
smiling and blind enough

A small chip on your front tooth
and the big bad wolf in your eye

Let me apologise when I ask for the time,
tell you
I should ‘get going’

and together
we’ll have all the essentials
to throw a party.

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