Whiskey

[bwasroy]

Someone placed hyacinths
on the table,
and I want to steal
one of the flowers
so I never have to leave.

But I don’t.


I drink alone,
remembering things
I didn't know I saw,
as a girl dances on my uncle’s feet.
 
She is so light that his feet
have no difficulty guiding her. 
 
It’s simple gravity.
 
These ghosts I carry
are too heavy
to let me dance
with the girl who lets her hair down.