But before ye do these things, call me Achior
the Ammonite, that he may see and know him that despised
the house of Israel, and that sent him to us as it were
to his death.
— Book of Judith
A goblet crafted from a nautilus shell
A pearl, dissolved in vinegar—Or poison
in a cup that’s crafted from a skull—
A gilt and porphyry vase to keep your toys in—
An urn filled with the world’s ills, or full
of emperor’s ashes—Sweet Maronian wine—
A coupe of queen’s champagne, bright, gold, and clear—
The cup that caught the Saviour’s blood—Or thine—
Or milk and honey, borne by slaves—Or beer—
A bottle (beerless) tossed from wave to wave
until it found its—port—A butt of hock—
The final draught, poured out upon the grave—
The glass that holds in Time, drip-tick, drip-tock—
This drink is Death, and it will be your last.
Drink, general, I know you know the taste.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Daniel Galef would
be pleased to hear them.