Sláinte Mhath

—Poetry by Neil Fullwood, Nottingham, UK 

and Ian Lewis Copestick, Stoke-on-Trent, UK
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

FIRST OF THE DAY

Ad men would reach for images
of cool mountain streams,
chips of ice catching the sunlight
as a skier shoots past,

rapids, waterfalls, the kind of lagoons
conducive to soft focus
and skinny-dipping. There’d be music
of a sub-Sibelius variety

and a gravelly voice growling homilies
about the clean crisp taste.
None of which are required: merely
a bottle opener, a glass

and the zen-like application of patience
as the beer settles. The long slow
moment of anticipation. The long slow
movement as the glass is raised.

Communion of hops.
John Mills got it right in Ice Cold
in Alex. Everything else
is just a sales pitch.

KEG

First vent the keg. Done over bathtub or sink,
a mild hiss of air escaping. Done anywhere
else, a geyser of beer (here’s IPA in your eye!)

Next, extract the tap from the base of the keg:
the plastic may snap or your fingernail break,
but what’s a little discomfort when there’s a pint

at the end of it? Hold your glass at an angle;
give the tap a quarter turn. The first glass
will wash with froth. Let it settle. Top it up.

Repeat till pint at line. Drink deeply. Enjoy
your keg, responsibly or otherwise. Dispose
of it other than in someone’s swimming pool.

Do not be swayed by your inner frat boy.

 Camouflage (can you see it? Click once.)

BEER O’CLOCK

Somewhere in the world
the sun hoicks itself
over the yardarm

and a sign flips
from CLOSED to OPEN
on a pub door. A store-

bought bottle’s served
out of a cool box
in a beachfront shack.

WINE BAR

‘Ambient’ is how the management
describe the lighting. ‘Dim’
is the epithet thrown around
by the clientele.

The decor is halfway between
crèche and brothel
just as the barmaid’s hazy gaze
is somewhere between allure

and boredom. 

 Bear Scratchings

MICRO PUB

As if you couldn’t tell
by the too-effusive barman/owner,
the beardie-weirdies in Grateful Dead t-shirts

and the range of bar snacks that extends
precisely as far as pork scratchings.

AQUA VITAE

Only the tiniest dash of water
and only then if it’s a heady, peaty malt.

Warm the glass, cup your hands
around it. Be reverent.

Inhale. Don’t be shy. Get your nose
right in the glass; breathe deeply.

What notes are you getting? Heather,
sea air, fruit, hints of caramel?

Or is the smoky insistence of peat
ravaging your nostrils? Raise

your glass, make the toast: sláinte
mhath. Take a sip. Feel the burn.

______________________

Today’s LongerNip:

BRING ON THE MONSTERS
—Ian Lewis Copestick, Stoke-on-Trent, UK

The fog around the
old fashioned, orange
streetlights makes this
1980’s-built housing estate
look like the setting for a
low-budget horror film.
I keep thinking that a
badly made-up Dracula
is going to appear
out of the shadows
with his obviously plastic
fangs heading for my
jugular. But no, real life is
a hell of a lot scarier than
any Hammer Horror film.
My Dad is waiting to have
an operation, to cut out
the cancer that the chemo
and radiotherapy couldn't
kill. This scares me more
than any horror film ever
could. In fact, I'd prefer to
be one of the undead, living
on blood for eternity, than
see my father suffering for
one more second.
Bring on the monsters,
them I can fight.

________________________

Fine poems today from two of our British Snake-Pals—all written with great panache, of course. Thank you to Neil Fullwood and Ian Copestick for checking in with us, and we’ll be thinking of you and your father, Ian. (And happy birthday to Prince Philip, who will be 99 years old this week!)

As for news from England, Neil writes, “ I hope you’re keeping well and staying safe. From what I’ve been seeing on the news, America seems like a powder keg at the moment. Things are strange and tense here in the UK. Our government is announcing an easing of lockdown rules and calling for primary school children to go back to school when the general feeling it that it’s too soon, that there’s real danger of a second wave.


“I’ve been clinging onto an adumbrated form of normality via reading and working on poetry. The six that I’ve included . . . came from conversations with numerous friends which all included speculation about which pubs in Nottingham we’d like to meet up at once the lockdown is over. ”

Sounds pretty much like news from the US these days . . .

This morning at 9 am on Zoom, join Larry Dillenbeck and Nick LeForce in the first of a series of four weekly Zoom meetings with select readings from Nick's newest book of poetry, The Undiscovered Country. Register in advance for this meeting at us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tZUocemgrTgjHNwGQMOFKj_R8U0sSB2cfkXC/. After registering, you will receive a confirmation email containing information about joining the meeting.

_____________________

—Medusa, toasting your good health, wherever you are ~

 

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