If the drink lifts,
then let it lift.
If the rift darkens,
if the voices unravel,
then let us travel light
to new points of departure.
The curvature of language,
so delicate and weaponized,
this we shall measure
with our breath.
Ongoing infinite death
beneath a shallow sunless sky,
such is all we can afford.
A word stripped
of pomp and circumstance
glows weakly behind the eye.
To this,
we lift a drink.

-r. miller

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