Last Night
Not being from
Kentucky,
he was unable
to hold
his bourbon.
His face,
like clay,
had become
malleable.
And his words,
like water,
were murky .
3 thoughts on "Last Night"
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Not being from
Kentucky,
he was unable
to hold
his bourbon.
His face,
like clay,
had become
malleable.
And his words,
like water,
were murky .
You must be logged in to post a comment.
great description
of inebriation.
been there a time or two myself
and I’ve lived in KY all my life
these days Ol’ Grandad
is a medicine for sore throat
and a cold when it’s cold
(or the blues when it’s blue)
i shoulda stuck with bourbon instead that hipster moonshine i swigged on last night…
This poem lays bare the Makers Mark curse.