Absolution

Absolution

The cap breaks

to the left and spins

loose on the table

like a drunken top.

Is the rush in the ritual

or in the result?

Three cubes,

no more, no less,

dropped one at a time

with bombardier

precision from above.

There follows the muted

plock-plock-plock

as the amber liquid

escapes the bottle,

and the pressure pop

of the ice as it welcomes

the whiskey.

Pavlov is affirmed

as the scent of Speyside

malt and smoke fills the senses

and light dances and refracts

through the diamonds

and gold in the glass.

The familiar bite

against the lips wakes me,

and I emerge like a penitent man

from the confessional,

absolved and ready

to sin again.  

SMG