Whiskey Wednesday
Monday nights
Are India pale ale,
Tuesdays
Stouts & porters.
Then comes
Whiskey Wednesday
& seven –
Tawny death
In slow sips.
You wonder
How it comes:
Sudden
Moonshine,
Stinging & harsh
Or in Canadian mists,
Buffalo traces, wild
Turkeys
Feral as forests
Or soft & rummy--
An easy sweet
Slipping to nothingness,
The last liqueurs
Liquid as eyes
Seeping silently
Through rye rivers
Rapidly rushing
Toward night.
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