What Shimmers, What Shakes

We had one at Founderís that was 10%,
and after, I crawled down the block.

We had one at The Quail that was 13%,
and I listened to the heads that hung in the trees

                         as they sang for their bodies


                         though their bodies
slept. We had another at Tommyís
that was 16.4%. I was all smiles

and fumes. I held out my hand, and John grabbed it.


He showed me where the drywall
                         held what would shimmer

inside us; in our bodies,
a rattle like a crystal against bone.

He was full of his 13%, and I was gone. I hung


by my brainís multiplying threads.
I tilted my glass back and saw its bottom

                         pinch the room at its center.


Brian Clifton co-edits Bear Review. He is a PhD. candidate at the University of North Texas. His work can be found in: Pleiades, Guernica, Cincinnati Review, Salt Hill, Prairie Schooner, The Journal, Beloit Poetry Journal, and other magazines. He is an avid record collector and curator of curiosities.