Kvass
The stuff in the glass was brown, hazy, and oily.
She told me it was kvass, and it smelled like old clothes boiling.
Prickly pickled gas, the color of dish water.
I thought I should pass, but only chickens falter.
I drank the whole shot fast, then felt very light headed.
I blurted out, “Was war das!” She said, “fermented bread.” And…
I fell right on my bottom.
(Poetry Scales 93)
She told me it was kvass, and it smelled like old clothes boiling.
Prickly pickled gas, the color of dish water.
I thought I should pass, but only chickens falter.
I drank the whole shot fast, then felt very light headed.
I blurted out, “Was war das!” She said, “fermented bread.” And…
I fell right on my bottom.
(Poetry Scales 93)
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