Here's a poem I wrote for fun some years ago about the delirium tremours which I thought that I might post to go along with the Single Malt third of my blog trichotomy - even though in my experience the whiskey sippers - good bourbons, single malts, and such - seldom subject their self to over indulgence.
reflection
on the d.t.’s
It isn’t their paws or
their awesome claws
as they roll in there
insolent ease.
that stands up my hair in
a wild drunken scare
and slowly buckles my
knees –
It’s the size of their
yawn as they swallow my lawn
and half of my dogwood
trees.
Though the smell of their
breath is as fetid as death
exhaled in hurricane
groans
it’s the metronome flail
of their godawful tail
that chills me clear to my
bones.
While the ichor that runs
from the sores on their tongues
to fall hissing in pools
at their feet
doesn’t bother me half
as that olfactory draft
that issues in gusts from
their seat.
To see lunch half digested
in their teeth half arrested
writhing and screaming in
pain
Gives me the tremors and
shakes of anticipated aches
and I vow never to touch
whiskey again!
In delirium I cry when a
claw spears my eye,
“Oh my God!” and burst
into tears.
Never again, I repent as
I’m thrust in its’ vent
while it viciously rips at
my ears.
Never again! Never Again!
will I drunkenly sin
I plead as the delirium
tremors hit me.
But my wild drunken half
just gives a wild drunken laugh
as he downs some of the
Hair-of-the-Dog that bit me.
69
well it took a while but
it was a bit of fun
-writing it i mean
(and no I’ve never had
them)
© smck
