Irish Whiskey

my irishness
is fine with me.

i thought
it was even better
when it went with whiskey.

drinking transported me
back to the old sod
& the sea.

poems were born.

alas, whiskey
got the better of me.

i would forget
to get up in the morn.

the bottles i hid
were empty.

i thought what i wrote
was,-
but it wasnt-
poetry.

still i was irish.
every march my heart
was with st patty.

& love was grand.

but i was holding the glass
with a shaky hand.

so i gave drinking
to the past.

the last of the whiskey
hit the grass.

i dumped it
when my words slurred
& i slumped & i crumpled
poems i didnt write.

now i’m free of the shots.
they can’t call me an old sot
& words are sweet.

they came back.
the words that had missed me.
& the waste of drink
turned into peat.

someday someone will burn
the life i threw down,
the irish whiskey.

 

Martha Boss has had poems published in The Aurorean, The Register, Light, Spare Change, Suny Review, and Salt Works Press. Her chapbook Twine was published by March Hare Press. She has unique self-printed chapbooks for sale and can been seen most Mondays at Stone Soup Poetry at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery.