A Dirty Martini, a poem by Jill Sharon Kimmelman at Spillwords.com
Stanislav Ivanitskiy

A Dirty Martini

A Dirty Martini

written by: Jill Sharon Kimmelman


displaced files
heaving stacks of mail
vermillion-kissed cigarette butts overflowing
square crystal ashtrays
scribbled-on-liquor-soaked-cocktail napkins

An avalanche of pink paper messages
atop yesterday’s neat stack
what to do with all these things
now that her heady scent was everywhere?

There was barely room for one martini glass
deep delphinium blue with three olives
on a crystal stick

He had never known such powerful thirst
words like slake and slay danced in his head
confusing him

Mocking his efforts to offer himself to her
it was quite clear she did not need his help

She had climbed atop his desk
here she perched last night’s
sleepy dance hall girl

Shredding the satin ribbons of her dancing shoes
twirling beads of amber and topaz
decorating her chest

if he squinted he might see her better
was she fair or dark
a sleek cap of auburn hair, emerald eyes

He thought her lovely
a pose of something distant like a wish

She had not existed before the first martini
he drank the third martini from her shoe
draining every precious drop of gin
from that inviting blue glass

Chanting her name again and again
whispering reverently the song
of his new mantra

What must he look like so early on this
the morning of his longest night?

He said her name again and again
a sing-song tonic that made him cry out

He needed to find a way to keep her
all to himself

he could write his name across her thigh
scribble a bit of a heart behind her knee
cover her in a fortress of liquor-soaked
scribbled-upon-cocktail napkins

an entire box gone to obliterate her presence

Or keep her hidden beneath his desk

Now he wonders what shall I do
how do I begin one more time?

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