The Quiet Catastrophe
—a poem for those who sip through the slow unraveling
It started soft, as endings do,
A muted clink, a shadowed hue.
No storm, no scream, no bloodied trace—
Just silence settling into place.
A stir of red, a kiss of white,
Two vermouths circling out of sight.
Cynar crept in, with bitter grace,
And pulled the warmth from every space.
A single dash of walnut dread
To toast the things we left unsaid.
No garnish, just a knowing glance—
The kind you give collapse by chance.
The world didn’t end with a blast or a glare,
It folded in on cocktail wear.
You took a sip, you breathed in deep,
And let the architecture weep.
📜 The Quiet Catastrophe – The Recipe
- 1 oz Sweet Vermouth
- 1 oz Dry Vermouth
- .5 oz Cynar
- 1 dash Walnut Bitters
Instructions:
Stir gently over ice, as though mourning something lost but unnamed.
Strain into a chilled coupe or serve on a single cube.
Optional garnish: a shaving of dark chocolate… or a small sigh.
Pairs beautifully with late-night dread, antique radios, and whatever journal entry you’re too afraid to reread.