I touch the sacred
waters of my
absinthe heart
tender, vulnerable
fingers slip into
pink ambrosia rivers
where liquid flows
languorous, from her
red half-full cup
shaken if not stirred
my pale hands tremble
in her wake, laudanum
where my hearts
drum beats black and blue
I trace a drop
spilling a cocktail
of milk
like my rhythm
my green
absinthe heart
is bruised
© 2009 Jodine Derena Butler. All Rights Reserved
Poetry Out West 
Very tempting but I will show restraint otherwise the delete button might be activated, pleased to say some of the stress was lifted last weekend……..!!!! Lol Mx
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Yes it is! As is self-soothing… in all her glory! Jx
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Absinthe addictive for some….came across this poem as I was trying to get out from under stress that is occurring right now……somehow the words are addictive and refreshing Lol Mx
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Thank you! Funny thing was that I wasn’t aware of what I was writing about until after. Strange as it may seem. This is just straight out of my unconscious… lol. Jx
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I love the poem… it leaves much to be desired…
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