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Villainelle

Well. I was quite happy to read the topic for this month’s Session, coming courtesy of Literature & Libation: “Alternative” Reviews:

sessionI want to see something that lets me know what you thought of the beer (good or bad!) without explicitly telling me. Write a short story that incorporates the name, an essay based on an experience you had drinking it, or a silly set of pastoral sonnets expressing your undying love for a certain beer. If you don’t feel like writing, that’s fine; plug into your inner Springsteen and play us a song, or throw your budding Van Gogh against the canvas and paint us a bubbly masterpiece. Go Spielberg, go Seinfeld, go (if you must) Lady Gaga. Show me the beer and how it made you feel, in whatever way strikes you most appropriate.

I actually wrote two thirds of a short story before shelving it (but I’m sure you’ll be seeing what I have to say about the Machine of Death universe before long). I eventually settled on a poem, because I’ve been wanting to try my hand at one of them for a while, and since I was explicitly told this Session was “a no judgement zone” I figured hey, let’s go with it. So, without further ado: my “review” of Shmaltz’s Funky Jewbilation.

2014-02-03 21.18.48While sitting here alone at night,
My cheeks have gained a pleasant heat.
It’s no use keeping up the fight.

I think again of how we might
Be traveling along and meet,
While sitting here alone at night.

I’m sure the conversation’s quite
Polite enough: banal and sweet.
It’s no use keeping up the fight.

Beneath the pleasantries, the slights:
A log of which I’ve kept, complete,
While sitting here alone at night.

The saccharine takes on a bite.
I have grown tired of this conceit.
It’s no use keeping up the fight.

Beneath it all, there is a blight.
I tire of your dragging feet
While sitting here alone at night.
It’s no use keeping up the fight.