Gonna pour me some lavender,

thick dried globs,

a little oil,

and try out that new bath tub.

Brass ceramic handles,

black etched cold and hot

watch the steam lift from

tub to handles

sniff the gentle air,

and I’ll be thinking of you

my dear

my darling husband

 

And remember how I took

every last bottle,

with dust and grime on neck and

bottle stem,

took those bottles and smashed

each, against the limestone,

tinkling glass, whack and thump

of thick glass

with the last dregs bleeding out from

every curvature of the bottles

 

Do you think you’ll miss the 80 Proof,

or 100, or even the poiteen?

instead I’ll be laying soaking up the bubbles,

my toes above the bubble line,

enjoying my herbal tea, my drink of choice.

Slainte