A TOAST

I raise my dark glass to you, 

dear friend, my almost rival. 

Brothers in obsession, 

our lot seems to be. 

The Fates decree what the Furies will serve us, 

and we have been poured the darkest Malbec. 

Mustn’t complain, of course. 

We have craved it only too much, you and I. 

No point in denying it; 

I know a fellow sufferer when I see one. 

Now, we must drink it together, 

this poison we would die for, 

while trying hard not to cut our lips 

on the sharp edges of crystal irony. 

So here’s to us, two orphans in the night: 

May the lesser man win.

– Grime and Shadows, Mrs. Gabe: A Supernatural Noir (WIP): A poem written by Professor Doria, addressed to Commander Michaelsen.