Indulgence

Never if I can help it do I think

of you, your squint as cigarette smoke

swirls the wrong way between sips

of each night’s first martini, first step

toward grim inebriation. How she

stood it I don’t know, the red cheeks

amphetamines gave her, the one cigarette

she’d take, she said, merely to cooperate.

Dinner a formal minefield we children

traversed, piloting polished silver & Tiffany

plates in proper order, knowing what

he required of us: to be neat, clean, quiet.

What I learned was how to eat

everything — liver & kidneys & sweet-

breads, anchovies, oysters, roast goose

for Christmas, Saturday night hors d’oeuvres

including antipasto, herrings in vinegar or cream,

salted seeds & nuts, deep-fried prawn,

weeknight legs of lamb, asparagus from a jar,

canned potatoes, hard-boiled egg with caviar.

So many years you've been gone

I confess, I share your taste for gin.