HOW I LOVE UNDER CAPITALISM

Sophia Rossi

Sweat pools everything even my collarbone

the air wilts with humidity love and a hundred grand

rows of people in folding chairs watch the cantor marry the couple

she speaks loudly under the chuppah

of the delight this man and woman make together

she says over and over

the two of you

you name a thing

and so it becomes

The oyster station is beautiful but I won’t touch it

I only swallow raw on special occasions

that’s a lie, I only don’t swallow raw on special occasions

like if I feel nauseous

or if I’m getting paid

I tear up when the couple repeats

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine

he steps on the glass, smashing it

a Jewish wedding makes sure you know

that which binds you can break

worse, you will be the one

to break it

Two days ago

I was in bed with a woman

she wore black lingerie and I red

forming the anarcho-syndicalist flag

with our naked beautiful commodities

for a businessman whose wife was uptown

at home, walking the dog, making a life

I traced his chest with my hand

performing love is very easy

he says over and over

the two of you

you name a thing

and so it becomes

Sophia Rossi is a writer who lives in New York.