The Second Glass

Beneath this window onto a
Savage place, a quiet truth
in the form of child.
The rancor of bloody winter.
A lack of passion floods
the core of your living room.
Enroute between where you have
been and where you are going --
a martini mediates, compresses,
distills the microscopic tendencies
of man and beast rolled into
one. No longer the child left
standing on the ledge (memory,
mix and the second glass.)