morning has broken, like
every morning; another night
lost. The day is born
in a glass. Bottles
dispense disparate liquids
married by the bells
of clinking ice; liquor and juice
swirl through crags--mixing, melting.
nutritious intoxicants are inhaled
and abandoned, freshening the
mouth, burning the stomach.
the deed is done. the drink
is gone. the glass is thrown.
the concoction carries the body;
the house left empty, again.
No comments:
Post a Comment