by Nick Gisburne
The whiskey lights a rocket on my lips
A voyage to the blurry bounds of space
It joins the jumbled scattering of ships
Propelled to reckless orbits round my face
No wine could send these crooked craft so far
A scientific certainty: too weak
But launch with bottled bourbon to a star
And every engine thunders to its peak
As master of this mother-loving fleet
A slowly spinning universe is mine
Reclining in the captain’s comfy seat
Infinity’s enigmas intertwine
The stars are so much further than you think
But everything comes closer with a drink
