You Have Drunk From This Bowl Before

You have drunk from this bowl before;

Sweat from your lips

Dry on its rim.

Ecstasy or tea?

Shame or whiskey? 

What was it you quaffed 

From its fragile womb?

Did it whisper

As it slid over your tongue?

It rested once

In you nicotine hands

Turning its most 

Beautiful side

Away from your face.

I never asked you why;

I suppose I didn't want to know.

           - James Doshin Benton

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