Collateral

You’re just being kind, suggesting the gin

with the botanical name and the silver cap.

You don't know the way the room starts to spin

or how that label is a well-set trap.

He used to drink it warm from a plastic cup

while he told me all the ways I let him down.

I watch the condensation filling up

a perfect ring on the wood, a little crown.

You’re smiling at me, waiting for a nod,

offering a glass like a peace of mind.

It’s a peculiar, accidental sort of rod

to be beaten by a person being kind.