Liquor Poem by Damascus Rom

Between the shots,
The laughter;
That crack between time and never-after.
Where looks last and linger
Upon threads of wasting smoke,
And where words rebounded return hollow.

I I saw the emerald crack in the corner of her eye
A deserter of the aging house of David..

All this talk between jilted lusts
The snap and twitch of wrecking wits,
Upon the dropp of private talk.

Words are steep,
but liquor is cheap.
So toss-n- reap,
and damn the guilted waltz.