Three Word Wednesday gave us these words: Cherish, Guarantee… and Nausea. Hmmmm. Amy
And after the sumptuous Creole meal, our host
revealed the piece de resistance.
Carefully inserting a skeleton key
into an antique burlwood cabinet,
he extracted a cherished treasure:
His smuggled bottle of Absinthe.
“Plan to stay awhile,” he murmured.
“This is guaranteed to take you
directly to the Source.”
A row of glasses topped with slotted spoons;
a cube of sugar atop each spoon.
He poured through the sugar cubes
slowly, lovingly – as one would bring forth
nectar from the gods.
Green liquid swirled; we held it up to the firelight,
our personal tickets to the Emerald City.
In our mutual stupor, we awaited the Divine.
And waited. Then waited some more.
Still, no inspiration, no introspection,
no insights. We stared at one another, then at our host.
Vague notions of Interview With The Vampire flickered,
My one and only encounter with Absinthe ended a bust.
And in the morning, a touch of nausea.
Perhaps in the future, I mused, I’ll stick to ‘shrooms.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also at my poetic oasis, Poets United!