ice cubes
ice cubes
by anthony liccione
like ice cubes floating in glass,
vibrant sounds of tingle crashing
against the sides, the room
silently spinning left,
as vodka makes its way
to dead veins,
with a picture of you in my hand
and no smile, where red apples
on the tree behind you
that never looked as good…
ice cubes now slivering,
disappearing
Its been years since I’ve read a poem by this guy. Everything about this is good – the metaphor mixed with representational image, the passage of time inherent in both structure and topic, the emotional rendering, even the apples and their connection to the ideological vanitas tradition (woman, sin, death). Most of all, though, I just like its immediate appeal, resonance, and sorrow. This is an excellent poem.
It has certainly been awhile since Anthony has sent us a poem. Thanks again Anthony.
I agree with the excellentivity of this here poemish.