The moment it’s worth it, I’ll eat
the pickled Brussels sprouts.
—the moment I prefer the needle
to fix the wrinkles, or go full ham
and fulfill the pact.
—the moment I’m willing
to endure the accident
again, only near an edge this time
on a floating bridge as I regret
having put the glass-shatter-rescuing thing
in the glove compartment, fucken seat belt,
and I like it being pointed out
how I’m turning red.
“Or, I could get creative and make a sauce.”
“That’s a personal attack!”
“How is that a personal attack?”
—the moment that’s a personal attack, I’ll fawn.
Maybe I’ll like them dilled come the next plague.
Adam Coday is an emerging queer poet who lives with his partner in Washington state. Other examples of his work have been published online by The Silent World in Her Vase and Chunk Lit, and are forthcoming in the magazine From Whispers to Roars and Lucky Jefferson’s 365 Collection.