Ash & Amber
Amber on the rocks
swirling in my glass.
A splash, then it’s gone
stains sticking to my breath.
Proof that’s come to pass
rot-gut memories invoked.
Sipping calm, collected thoughts
drowning out the ghosts.
Auburn eyes and crooked smile
temptation’s soothing touch.
To linger on your lips
never quite long enough.
Chestnut’s lengthy caress
twisting through closed-off walls.
Tasting you on my breath
watered-down alcohol.
Nuance fading with a pour
brushes nuzzle, blushing warmth.
Rosy, crimson cheeks adorned
caution waning in my arms.
Memory’s burden or a vice
thinking too much or not enough.
Like water of the melting ice
intoxicated or in love?
Burning remnants on my tongue.
Arden Falker (he, him) is an emerging poet from Audubon, Minnesota who explores the fault lines where memory, place, and language collide. His work is forthcoming in The Phoenix, The Chimes, The Unhoused Anthology (Prolific Pulse Press), Rundelania, and Academy of the Heart and Mind.


