Poem: January 22, 2019

Here's What I Like About Whiskey

Pop the cork out of a good bottle of whiskey
and smell the contradiction of the bright and dark
caramel at the neck. Go ahead and catch a drop
from the side of the bottle. The taste is a soft spark
that anticipates the ritual of drinking.
I prefer a rocks glass, with a single oversized cube,
something to clink but not rattle.
Then, two fingers high of bourbon or rye,
a slow, golden amber pour before you hear
the first crack of the cube, a physical
reaction that echoes for a second inside the glass.
For me, a Manhattan, a splash of sweet vermouth,
two droppers full of dark cherry or orange bitters,
and three Luxardo cherries that rest at the bottom,
drinking in the whiskey until the four of us meet,
and finally the sweet bite of each drunken fruit.