Word of the Day: Lush (a poem)


Alcoholics should never be called lushes.
Lush should be reserved
for carpeting so thick
that you can scrunch it with your toes.

Lush should be a jungle
Dripping with fronds and vines.
The haze of heat,
The smell of sweat.
Lush should be your lips.
Pressed to mine.

I remember him dancing at the bar.
Swirling, like one of his drink straws
Within the circle of his glass.
“Your father is a lush,” the bartender said.
But I thought he said fish.
And I laughed as only an eight year old could
Imagining him churning through the crowd.
Tossed by current and fate.

“My dad can’t swim,” I replied.

But I took him by the hand
And brought him home.
We sang sea shanties together on the way
Even though neither of us
Were sailors.

via Daily Prompt: Lush



      1. My pleasure! And for sure, no problem at all. Yes, that is completely understandable. I feel like that at times as well. But then, to the same extent, there are those times when even just one person responds back with a quiet whisper of “hello” and it makes it all worth it. So the void may be expansive, but not to worry. There are still some good “hellos” out there to discover as well!

        Liked by 1 person

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