Guinness

(Published in 2004 edition of The Review)

It curves generously,
opening wide to offer
its precious bounty.
It’s graceful side, an elegant line
broken by a mist of condensation

Black enough to hide me,
silent as I want my mind to be,
just cool enough to sooth me.
The froth, soft like flannel,
I want to pull sheets of it around me.

It can’t heal my body,
erase my anguish,
or bring anyone back
to drink with me one last time.

…It tastes good.
It softens my mind’s voice
for a little while;
a glassful of pub-chatter
that ferments my whirling thoughts.