She writes the non-fiction marathon,
grabs her metaphysical hangover
to record the distillers, blogs recipes for
old martinis, notes where mezcal
comes from. Serious, full-time
writing about booze, barstools
and body/mind benders. Codifying
as a way to stop her bingeing.
Is that how it goes with loneliness?
Scrawling about virtuous alone as relief
to being empty with people beside you?
Writing about the waked-up nights
of tempered snowflakes on bird feeders?
Tucking a poem into a purse
at a party where you trust no one?
Meditating to discover the tree-speak
solace that breaks isolation? If you describe
the topography of lonely valleys, river plains,
mountain peaks with the right words
to guide anyone in and out
of the wilderness, have you put the cork
in the keg?