Villanelle for a Shot of Jameson

A shot of whiskey joins ice and warmth
and does not question rocky errant paths
like humans who forget the final step

is but the last and counts as one of all,
the final sum of but forgotten math
a shot of whiskey joins. Ice and warmth,

and pleasure and pain do bind together all,
protect the self with swings of lust and wrath
like humans who forget. The final step

we take to realize we are very small,
a nothing, salt dissolving in a bath.
A shot of whiskey joins ice and warmth

and does not hide in casks or shirk it’s call
to rest in tapestries of days, a single lath,
like humans who forget the final step

arrives, and wanders-past aren’t tragic falls,
just narratives to unknown aftermaths.
A shot of whiskey joins ice and warmth
like humans who forget the final step.

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