One too many from the looking glass
by Darius Ajai Frasure

Again, I sit
back toward reflection
lead-weighted pillow and jazz
mourning the lost life
and forsake flight

Breaths fog and echo
beating against this chamberchalice
that once contained the skeleton
of memory intuition
just a shadow how shallow
the deep end bottomof this glass
shotof piss and maple
and oak agedto perfection This drink
and I no longer in our fermenting
skinsor presses
or caskets

We are costlynow
aired-out and bitter
in the end

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