Vintage

I will mix me a drink of stars, --
Large stars with polychrome needles,
Small stars jetting maroon and crimson,
Cool, quiet, green stars.
I will tear them out of the sky,
And squeeze them over an old silver cup,
And I will pour the cold scorn of my Beloved into it,
So that my drink shall be bubbled with ice.
It will lap and scratch
As I swallow it down;
And I shall feel it as a serpent of fire,
Coiling and twisting in my belly.
His snortings will rise to my head,
And I shall be hot, and laugh,
Forgetting that I have ever known a woman.
By Amy Lowell

I enjoyed this poem because of the use of double meanings that Lowell uses. Instead of feeling as though I was beating it with a hose I felt that I could easily pull out a meaning from the poem. Throughout the poem the writer talks about mixing a drink however you realize slowly that it is about forgetting. The unusual imagery seems confusing at first but then becomes clear as it is easily related to drinking. The pain, the fire in his stomach, and the fact of forgetting is portrayed in a beautiful way that I really enjoyed. The poem is straightforward yet at the same time an allusion which I enjoyed.