I begin to swirl the powder,
wipe my finger across the counter to
where the crumbs have landed.
I remember throwing up
on our coffee table:

purple wine spewing out the
moment I put it in my mouth.
stomach gurgling.
I remember being alone
then too and bending down,
licking it up immediately
and the panic.
the panic that only alcoholics
at 4 am understand.

there’s no more after that
and I’m still awake,
alive, standing.

“Kratom”

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