Burning Lemons

Once your name felt
like 25 year old whiskey,
smoky, warm, seductive,
as it drifted between my lips.

Now, your name leaves
a bitter residue on the edge
of my tongue, as I sit
on this fucking bar stool
slamming shots of Cuervo,
sucking lemon wedges.

When life gives you lemons
you must saturate the trees with gasoline,
light the whole goddamn orchard afire.

Nathan Tompkins

© June, 2018 Five2One Magazine