Nina Simone, Newports and a half empty bottle of Jim Beam, warm belly, hot face cooled by tears. Desert ground cracked lips, cactus heart, aggressive, protective but filled with that which sustains the thirsty and meat that feeds the starving. Singing songs, fluid melodies that stretch my ears and mind and skin lyrics that wrap themselves around me, not the flesh of me but the internal me the eternal me and pulsate pound like the ancestral drum, ancient rhythms that wake the primal in me. Steady she plants my lotus feet my roots into the earth deep deep deeper than I knew i could be. Left to contemplate the simply complicated like the value of silence. Nina Simone, last Newport, and an empty bottle of Jim Beam.

michelle soares

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/drunk-again/