Lowland Still
I work in a chamber where silence trickles
out of the raw mash of daily noise –
the fumes are so volatile
one spark could napalm the place.
I let it roll in the belly of the glass,
push my nose over the rim, inhale
peat, salt, heather – nuanced,
expensive, toxic as single malt.
I’ve earned every drip of this.
This silence is seventy proof.
Finally I let a sip trickle past my lips
swirl it over my gums and palate
until it scorches the nerve-spots
at the back of the tongue,
whispers hello to my throat –
I’ve come to burn you out.
William Stephenson‘s poems have appeared in Anon, Envoi, Orbis, The North and The Rialto. His pamphlet Rain Dancers in the Data Cloud(Templar) won an Iota Shots award in 2012. He won the 2012 Ravenglass Poetry Prize. His short collection Source Code (Ravenglass) is available on Amazon.