Nathaniel S Rounds’ poem 567903ASDW appeared here in April 2012.
Vodka
By Nathaniel S Rounds
Tolstoy, I adore your company But there are times when I think that good wine of good vintage Selected for its single bottle offering Is better than pouring Fevered intoxication over grain in the table’s surface For highlighted detail and accentuation
I can’t cut through your sulfur and God-like thump of boot Over dry earth praying for rain And that is why I despise Clear deception through hammer on the head Water gone evil Through the humble potato and its alchemy I need your summation without its aftermath
No trap will interrupt your walk Through the forest of thought and history Through the social botany lesson Through the lecture and Genesis and Exodus of Man And woman left forgotten and betrayed Like a matryoshka doll birthing its own fears
