This day
encapsulates
my endless gratitude
for each moment I get to live
sober.
recovery
Lightning Won’t
Strike twice on
the same stage
in the same
heart to doom
the same
life all over
again. She only thinks
she recognizes
that dose
of thunder
as his.
Eccentric or Concentric
The trigger
point may be
centimeters (or miles)
lower than he thinks. It may
be so much
higher, so much
in your head.
From Seed to Glass
Prairie vodka—a beverage
I will never taste. Made in Minnesota.
Property tax—a phrase
I’ll never utter
in Minnesota
or anywhere else. Show tune—
a collection of verses
I will never
memorize. I see rhinoceros—
a warping I will never stop
laughing over.
Organic drunk—
an oxymoron I still remember
how to translate.
Traveling Lighter in Increments
A cold spell snaps
into the first
heat wave
of the season. Which season?
An approach
by air
rather than
by sea
could open
those island gates
she has been eyeing
for as long
as she has been walking
without a crutch.
200 Days (or Spirit Varnish)
All the world’s
an ice rink
this morning before
the sun (no one can see
through freezing rain
and fear) fully rises. Where
did it go
when these bones began
to break and drop
to the lacquered
ground? Whose bones
will replace those
missing from this new silence?
Wind Chill Civil Dawn
Beautiful to watch
from a well-sealed
window. Nothing
gets taken
for granted. Feels like
a drop
in ambient thought.
The essential reveals
itself against a pale blue
cloudless sky. Another day
where hope just might burst
through burns awake
to break convection’s hold.
Shakes
When a building gets braided
before the roof settles, who can
predict how high
the electric fence
will need to be. And she’s come to
under the wire
often enough to care.
Each measure is always longer
than it sounds.
They Call It Prohibition
I dream of sipping espresso
from a tiny ceramic cup
in a hotel bar high
above the streets
and skyway. And I tower
over a city that dreams
bigger than it looks. They call it
Prohibition—it’s not illegal
for an alcoholic
to recover the view.
I Am Chronic
Each poem, drunk, diary
entry. Each smoke, vitamin,
obsession. Each song
lyric, verbal tick, chapter
read. Each piece
of chocolate, mile
walked, resentment nursed.
I am each reprieve.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 