Ice cubes clink in a glass.
It isn't just our drinks
That are on the rocks now.
So I offer you words.
A mint or two or three
To soothe your angry throat
Made hoarse by your own words.
Don't be daft. You should know
Sweet nothings are just that.
I can offer you more:
Sour limes, bitter medicines,
Salty tears. You are sick
Of us. Let me cure you.
But for now, have a mint:
Green winter in your mouth.
Something's born as something
Dies. Mint melts in mouth, and
Resolve loses itself
In the martini you've
Grudgingly taken from
My outstretched hand. So I
Stuff you with more sweet treats.
Taxidermy takes time.
And you are drunk before
You've drained a drop. Lips part
To resist futilely
With words dulled not by drink,
But by hibernating
Love waking to silver's
Touch. We raise our glasses,
Toast to silvered words and
Mentholated liquor,
Which keep us together.