The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
Drunk at noon in the city
of Baudelaire, I am back at my hotel, deprived
here for an afternoon nap.
I yank the curtains shut, lie down on the bed,
think about all the ghosts
before me. Ghosts.
I can almost see them gliding
across the carpet, laughing, arguing,
making love in the milky
This hotel is ancient. It’s at least 200
I can hear a strange occasional
inside the walls. I can hear the floors
I can feel the heavy rumble
of the metro
as it passes
underneath the building.
I fold the pillow around my
skull, throw the duvet
But after about 10 minutes,
it becomes clear – I’m too wired to sleep.
How can you sleep in bright liquid
in the city
of Picasso, Cendrars, Hemingway?
I ponder the question for a bit,
though I know the answer. So,
I climb out of bed - I too
am a ghost
in this hotel’s memory - pulling
my trousers, lacing my shoes.
I grab my wallet off the dresser
I am in the city
of Villon, remove bank card
licenses Deutschland Ticket
and head up to Montmartre.
M.P. Powers is the author of The Initiate (Anxiety Press, Fall, 2023). Recent publications include the Columbia Review, Black Stone/White Stone, Mayday Magazine, and others. His artwork can be found on Instagram @mppowers1132.
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