(Fiction) Advice to the Reader: Drink Before Proceeding
I knew as soon as I began that nothing
ever needed to be said has been said in a poem
Yet greater writers write the poetry of love
with the pugnacity of Hemingway
and another empty cup slammed to the counter
and another right hook to the already bloodied visage
of the maudlin lyricist trapped in the shadows of
heroic ambition
Who cower unshaven in dark corners
with heads hanging and hearts desperate
for the pain they need but cannot endure
so when the opium den calls with the promise
of divine intervention poetic invention
they hide in unplastered bedrooms
devoid of meaning in an ambivalent declare
attending weddings and funerals to still never weep
And I too sit here with the images of Baudelaire
and the frail Paris air
choking through clouds of smoke
with sweet whispers of tender compassion
recited in numbed audacity
The arrogance of youth so obsessed with image
with a flicker of the cigarette and another shot of whiskey
for death is poetry enough
All this will do for the title of great poet
And I too will write this to legitimise my drinking habits
Katie Salomon
