A Toast


You got plastered before all of mans’ army,

a bootlegged staggering saint;

a son with no son to instruct in

the rites of a drunken bum’s war.


So you took up your girls by the hand

and led them before all the men -

they gave counsel before they could stand,

rivered castles un-mirrored by sand;


and you wrapped them in paper armour -

stuck down at the sides with gin;

with the name of their game a strong tower,

there was no man, they could not unmake.