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Friday, December 16, 2011

Three Jacks

You fed me cocktails from novelty mugs.
I swallowed all three, in a series of
short, sharp glugs
in between hesitant hands - I’d never played poker before.

Calico Jack
had a warm, spiced bite
with a whisper of Turkish delight.
I swigged it like stolen grog.

Your mouth was a small “O”
of glowing cigar ash.

Spring-Heeled Jack
clicked like a safety catch,
fizzed like a fresh-struck match,
made my belly glow like
gaslight on cobblestones.

You held that small sun between your teeth
and smiled around it.

Smackwater Jack
kicked like a shotgun
fired from out of the blue.
It tasted like blue
from the base of a fire.

You leaned closer,
breathing smoke into my hair.