She perches on the chair,
clink of ice croons in her ear;
a slippery gloss of memory froths her lips.
Here on dark waters
float glimmers of chance
while hope,
that slow gasping fish of dreams
slides near.
She raises her glass,
a spirited salute--
when the lights come on he swims clear.
Washed up, she spits,
and tugs her drink,
swallows scorn in one long gulp:
that bitter brine,
end of the line,
a barb,
stuck in her throat.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
She perches on the chair,
clink of ice croons in her ear;
a slippery gloss of memory froths her lips.
Here on dark waters
float glimmers of chance
while hope,
that slow gasping fish of dreams
slides near.
She raises her glass,
a spirited salute--
when the lights come on he swims clear.
Washed up, she spits,
and tugs her drink,
swallows scorn in one long gulp:
that bitter brine,
end of the line,
a barb,
stuck in her throat.
a revision of an earlier piece, titled 'Cheers'
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/165693/cheers/
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