A tremor among flutters of the hand:
Excess vibration – it’s certain to involve a deeper rhythm –
Certain self images sent bent;
Light striking irregular glass.

Eyes contract, weight shifts, a
Break in conversation.
Caught in a moments maze
All obstacles avoided reconstruct,
All exits rearrange.

There are other signs:
Brood and singularity, thoughts
Perpendicular to sense,
Doubt challenging belief.
Perhaps another shuffling of the deck,

A steady murmur, a muttering,
A constant twang or certain slur of contradiction.
Mind insufficient, though desperate to respond:
“No more!  No urge!”
No self-recrimination to excuse the selfish stupor….

But there is silence in good scotch –
As when reverberations peak,
Then separate the sound from voice
And thought from all compassion.