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Viper of Intemperance
With a simultaneous gasp for air,
a trembling hand lifts the bottle.
Throat-burning venom snakes
its way across the tongue as
hot liquid arrows slither
toward their target;
a petrified pit waiting
to receive the coveted sting.
White-fanged memories
lie coiled, and ready to strike
until doused repeatedly
with liberal doses
of fiery forgetfulness.
You rattle around
in my consciousness.
Whiskey takes you
out of my mind.
Copyright ©
Kay Caputi
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