A bob of bourbon on the tongue
little leaf of liquor is what the doctor
ordered, an older doctor not a pill popper
but a practical poet of therapy
in cider weather
when bees wait
for dawn, wait to hover
over apple sulfate
suck in what they can gather
Already Orion blazes its aura
as I open the cupboard for the Jim Beam
Medicinal: a make-or-break move
to ease the ick of my child’s thick cough
in cider weather
when bees wait
for dawn, wait to hover
over apple sulfate
suck in what they can gather
But first, to focus and fill my thirst,
I sip, little nip to spirit and snip
what wheeze may wander in the walls
Dutiful dad A doctor on duty
in cider weather
when bees wait
for dawn, wait to hover
over apple sulfate
suck in what they can gather.
John Davis is a polio survivor and the author of Gigs and The Reservist. His work has appeared recently in DMQ Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, and Terrain.org. He lives on an island in the Salish Sea.