the host
by Zach Kobrin
I am bad
at throwing parties
always serving stone fruit
in a glass house
giving toasts about gratitude
that are already burnt
covering strangers in conversation
thin as tablecloths
scraping my leftover words
into the trash
demanding my finest china
be broken in like a bull
greeting the guest of honor
in the bathroom mirror
too late in the evening
to have the worst conversation of the night.
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