The Drinking Game

5124-alcohol
she couldn’t stomach anything all week
doctor’s diagnosis; the stomach virus of the spring
week old vodka slithers down the spine and into a belly
that vomited just twice this morning
she clasps the secretive flask, brimming full with a bitter brew
unscrews the cap, tips it back,
rubbing alcohol and sweet sugar
numbing the pain of stretched muscles
clenched teeth, soaking liquid into tired skin
tongue like leather, each bud boiling from the lick of liquor
wincing, she wishes she could hold her face still like the men
who take gin and tonics in a heartbeat
–she takes hers in two
She couldn’t stomach anything all week
but still she plays the drinking game 
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