Alina Kalontarov

The weather is nice but the forecast is shitty

Our sweet
pink elephant
is turning blue
in the face.
What we don’t say 
sits here with us
sipping 
lemon-ginger tea. 
Throat clears, a cold 
shoulder. Clink 
of china on white-
knuckled marble.
Remember the fight 
about the water stain? 
You said,
it was only water, 
how could it leave 
a stain? 
The way
desire slips out
in the middle 
of the night. 
The way it enters 
a different room. 
How could it leave?
‍The way 
we laughed 
and laughed
and promised 
not to lie
but truth 
is such 
a prankster. 

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