Raspberry Cordial

The bravery required to rise, and that all may have the opportunity,
is something of the New World.

The new cordial: a summer berry wine,
pristine and clairvoyant,
buoyant and effervescent with a zany tang.
She hit the floor running,
bracing her heels to ice dance—
warming her audience to heartfelt applause.
Her tea was velvet,
her dress, black sequins.

The icing of life was a fairy tale ending
to the beginning of tulle and magic wands;
only a raspberry cake would suffice for this party,
with a carefully plucked cordial rose.
She sat on the mahogany chaise,
never wavered in confidence for the crown
of silver cloud linings and imperfect landings,
over demi tasse discussing triple axels.

Emily Isaacson

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