Thrones of Whiskey and Piss by Jacob Valenti
I. Whiskey Ship
There is a frozen piss stain in the snow Beneath his hips and betwixt his haunches. Just a bum, who succumbed to the butt Of some cosmic joke.
His fifth of bourbon beats in his fist as his Handle of crimson life juice shatters Against the pavement of his ribs. Like the stars, Reflecting off of the empty vessel on the sidewalk.
It lays beside his starboard foot, lacking a Boot with a toe protruding from a hole in woolen socks, Nibbled on like a bit of cheddar by some small creature. A creature who now sits, watching me from
The dunes of melting sand. His eyes are soft, Like those seeing an old friend, one he Knew from the gutter he grew up in. My eyes are diamonds, cutting into the glass.
The brown paper bag is breaking like peanut brittle, As I extract the whiskey ship from his icy claws. His fingers stick, leaving rusty labyrinth marks Where I fit my own epidermal mazes.
Respectfully, I lift the empty bottle from its grave, beside The man’s half eaten toe, and slip it into the peanut brittle Cornucopia. A solitary salute is what I give the cold gentleman, As he has provided warmth to another frigid soul.
II. I Am Falling I Am Spiraling
I start to move and my legs take me where they want to go and I Am feeling warmth not burning but like a cold morning and the sun is Falling on my legs waking them from their long and dreamless sleep and I look around and my frame rate per second has slowed immensely and I Am noting the serpents which my arms have become around and around Spiraling telling me to eat the apple and I want the apple and I listen to them And I feel the warm bourbon scorch my throat in a way almost like fire No not like fire but like ice like I have swallowed the very breath of Winter in One swig but the serpents lunge at my throat as if they want a taste Is there a such thing as snake whiskey and if so I need some for my arms Here because they don’t seem to be too happy with my choice of what To do with the bottle I was so graciously given by that man who gave me Help when I most needed it he knew someone would need a fire and it’s Me so thank you my popsicle acquaintance and I realize that he is waving In the snow and I wave back and something is familiar about him almost like What the eyes of the rodent looked like as I recognized him from some other World or perhaps just some gutter we’d grown up in and now my world Is a glass with snow falling up and up and up and I am falling up and up and up This is when the snow begins to fall but there is fire inside of me and all is Right and I am in love with the world and the man waving who is My brother or sister or father or mother or friend or professor who I saw one Time at the funeral for Aunt Peggy and as I think of this I grasp for the bench which Has moved without my permission and I fall into a throne of snow so I Run my hand along my beautiful wooden home as my flame blows Out.
There is a frozen piss stain in the snow Beneath my hips and betwixt my haunches. Just a bum, who succumbed to the butt Of some cosmic joke.