PEPTO BISMOL MAKES ME LONELY

With you gone, I’m the loneliest girl at the grocery store.

I watch pairs of strangers buy over-the-counter remedies

for their flushed stomachs that speak to each other in sleep.

Mine knots into itself, has no one who will listen

to how it laces alone each week, turning tight bow,

then loose string, then hitching back into double bends.

You didn’t love me; you left me, when we could’ve lived

in joint bathrooms together, feet on salmon tiles as we sat

doors-down on toilet bowls, our stomachs tethered by strange sewage

systems & soap. Now I own only one medicine cup & my gut turns less.

But my secret is that when I miss you, I drink crates of dairy

milk instead of oat. I look at Pepto Bismol & see

its brightness, that sickly pink, how I used to carry it

in my purse for you so no one would know when you needed it.

Even with you gone, I still wish I could give you that love.

I would’ve drank the bottle for you. I would’ve thrown up.