Squif

not by Paul Muldoon

After a party which raised the rafters
And under a deluge of last weeks telly
I watched her drink down two pills of blue
Handrolled narcotic jelly.

We talked like two sturdy Tyrolean peasants, digging
Dogwood and Bog Rosmary, and cutting planks of ash
Into the exact shape and size of water-maybe
Which I shared with the dog, along
With a little food from the fridge
And slept like a baby.