On the subway ride over,
I ache for fullness and ketamine
My blood thickens but I can’t stop
Swallowing the redness in my lap
Tools are meant to fix us
But they don’t always
Fit us in the right places
When I arrive,
You scrape away what’s left
Of the inflammation
And bite my neck on the counter
Cold stethoscope of idleness,
You hover by my hear
Like a broken bug
I swat the timer with my elbow
And finish my last glass
Before you break it
With a purple hammer

Samantha Savello is a writer and poet from New York. She studied Hispanic Literature at Brown University, where she wrote her thesis on Nuyorican poetry. You can learn more about her at www.samanthasavello.com. Instagram @samsavello