‘Naming Painkillers’ by Christine Göös
Champagne bubbles, the metal fanfare of bridges.
New York, haven’t I arrived.
Winter’s back but you can smell the chlorine,
now absent from the turquoise of the pool.
Good mornings in the foyer, we don’t use the word lobby here.
You’re empty like the fridge – we eat out, tip generously.
He’s gone until late, at times through the night.
Weed and videos on the best friend’s couch — yeah right.
Smile and shower it’s just another day.
The paths of other women have passed these sheets.
Hurts in the worst way but you live too rich for the #AllTheFeels.
Girl – they’ll be naming painkillers after you.
It’s fifty for the gym and club,
dry cleaning just pay as you go.
Benjamin Franklin for the cleaning lady, twice a month.
Sixteen hundred for the heartache: pay at once or in parts,
but you’ll always pay it in full.
You can read more about the book here
Illustration by Aki Tanninen