Broken

The bar mumbles
and shifts under the weight
of the night.
Slim sober crooked men blossom
with each amber drink.
In the corner, a brackish
beauty shuffles blades
and whittles Time,
and the men stare and sizzle
with just a flick of her fingers.
The dim lamps cast shadows,
hiding her face,
her hair melting into the wall behind her,
her face pale like a ghost,
eyes gleaming.

The bartender wipes the wood
with a swish swish swish,
mesmerizing the man with the beard,
his whiskers wafting the scent of cheap wine,
his eyes following the swish swish
of the towel.
He takes a sip from his glass,
and then slides the empty cup away.
The bartender throws the towel
over his shoulder, and pours
him another, before going back
to dusting the bar.

In the bathroom, the crooked
sink is crumbling
below the broken cracked
face of the old woman.
She peers into her reflection,
drags her fingers across her cheek,
and sighs
before turning toward the door.

The lights flicker and the bar hushes,
only for a moment,
before the swish swish swish
fills the empty air again.