Tonight's Poet Corner: Pint of Awesome

Pint of Awesome
by Belinda Roddie

I told her that she
was a pint of awesome,
all bottled and capped and chilled,
ready to serve in a tall, frosted glass
at a pub carved into Ireland's green liver.

"You're a pint of awesome, too,"
she replied, trying to imply
that I could be drunk as easily
as her flavor. I shook my head.

"Half-cup. We agreed that I
was a half-cup."

"No," she argued.
"You're a pint."

"A cup," I attempted
to compromise, my hands
pressed against her swollen bosom,
the liquor of her flesh drawn out against
my fingers, smooth and ready
to pour into the voluptuous stein.

"Two cups," she said, and I chuckled,
kissing her twice on the nose. Two
splashes of ale to appease her.
"But my dear," I whispered, "two cups

of awesome equals
a pint." And she nodded and
giggled, and I gave up the game
and guzzled her love straight from
the bar's brass, nozzled tap.