Cold Gin And A Pandemic

By Georgina Marie Guardado

A swig of fresh lime squeezed over ice
San Francisco’s Junipero gin with a garnish
soothes the overwhelm of more bad news
and sudden heat

What I learned at home today:

           the length of estrangement becomes short
           in comparison to the weight of regret

          100 more days of solitude—a poet’s irony

          bare white walls wait with open-hearts
          to catch our sighs

          how much I miss my father now that he is dead.

Toss back tonic water with an extra kick
catch the sun warming the side of my face
through the glass door into the dining room

now a reflection
of how many years have passed

          how the idea of a father became a ghost

          how a ghost haunted me into adulthood

          how adulthood became a poem always in the works

          how poems became home

          how hard it is to live inside this one

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