The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Wednesday and Colonial Fair

The Best Drink
By Lee Upton

The afternotes: orange, a little frangipani,

and then something harsh and mineral:

an old jug rutted out of the ruins of a lost chapel.

But first it was like drinking spring water

lathed by rocks fatty with quartz.

No, it’s inexplicable,

even the way that drink spared our feelings.

That drink liked loneliness and appreciation, lingering appreciation.

Just thinking about that drink creates a kind of yearning

that douses you like sea spray.

I drank that drink and was convinced my body

was flying of its own accord, and why not?

The myth of Icarus is an ugly story

retold and retold and retold

by someone resentful who wasn’t able to drink

the best of the drinks we ever drank.

There was a clear sky in that glass and shaggy pines

and a bit of snowmelt doused in a fire,

and soon a blue shawl drew itself from the rim

and brimmed over us both, and something caught

inside our throats and was released—some old grief.

A grief that, possibly, didn’t even come from us. Or even from our ancestors.


Cheryl came over on Tuesday morning and we went to meet Jill and Toni at the New Deal Cafe in Greenbelt, which has an all-vegan menu including plant-based Italian sausage that is awesome! We had a lovely long lunch catching up on things, then Cheryl and I came back to my house (after a work-related stop at the post office) and watched Isn't It Romantic, which she hadn't seen and I like. After she headed home, Paul and I had Beyond Burgers and watched the Nationals beat the Cardinals. From Mount Vernon last weekend, some of the Colonial Fair:

2019-09-14 14.34.54

2019-09-14 13.31.46

2019-09-14 13.26.01

2019-09-14 13.55.07

2019-09-14 13.54.53

2019-09-14 13.34.42

2019-09-14 13.24.52

2019-09-14 14.05.55

  • Poem for Thursday and Great Falls Geese

    I Am Waiting By Lawrence Ferlinghetti I am waiting for my case to come up and I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder and I am waiting for someone…

  • Poem for Wednesday and Great Falls Cardinals

    The Bird Her Punctual Music Brings By Emily Dickinson The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place— Its place is in the Human…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Carderock

    A wounded Deer – leaps highest – By Emily Dickinson A wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the ecstasy of death…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded