You Have Drunk From This Bowl Before
You have drunk from this bowl before;
Sweat from your lips
Dry on its rim.
Ecstasy or tea?
Shame or whiskey?
What was it you quaffed
From its fragile womb?
Did it whisper
As it slid over your tongue?
It rested once
In you nicotine hands
Turning its most
Beautiful side
Away from your face.
I never asked you why;
I suppose I didn't want to know.
- James Doshin Benton