The Public House

Behind glass smiles are the whiskey ties,
the salutes, and drunken testaments,
liquid praise, and clinking compliments
as we try to swallow the past like wolves
waiting-

to devour the burden of remembrance.


Our regrets,
we bury like coffins;
silently mourning our defeat.
The void,

and vacancy we cannot fill, but turn
to stock as we attempt
to fix our losses.

Caught between affliction and anger,
our emotions bulge, and brew over
the brinks of bottles, the verges of pints
as we drown our woes behind
the barriers of the public house,
we rely on the benevolence of strangers,
to wash away the risk and reward, the sorrow
and strain of squander, the dread of ruin,
and total sum of disaster

we stagger,
masquerading our condescension,
we stumble as we lose,
our courage.