Revelation in the Blacksmith's Arms
It started with a gin, a cognac, vodka.
Continues with the same but double.
Double vision - cloaked figure at the table
Raises glass - to oblivion. 'Bottoms up!'
Refilled at once - neat - something strong.
'To oblivion!' Raises glass, nods, grins.
'Drink to the death,' it says.
'Toast!' 'Skull!' Three gins, bacardi,
Whisky, absinthe, slivovitz, and more.
Down in one and to the death.
Around the room,
Swimming through the cosmos,
Smoky shadows drink in corners.
Shakespeare winces at yammering intellectuals,
Chekhov giggles at an unspoken joke,
Beckett muses, Joyce plays chess.
'Time, gentlemen, please!'
Baudelaire nods at a passing daffodil.
Hooded vista at the table, bony, grins:
'Drink to the death?
I win, my friend.'
06 January 2007
Writing Society, August 2006, revised
Labels:
poetry
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