The Clockmaker’s Negroni
—a poem where time ticks bitter and slow
He built the world in gears and gin,
Each cog a thought, each tick a sin.
A measure poured with surgeon’s grace,
Precision writ on time’s old face.
The vermouth sighed, sweet yet resigned,
Like calendars that lost their mind.
Montenegro bled its bronze despair,
A bitter kiss in stillborn air.
He stirred it thrice, then maybe more—
Each motion part of something warred.
No garnish crowned the glass’s lip—
Just silence, balanced at the tip.
He sipped. The seconds staggered back.
The past returned along the track.
And all he’d built, and all he’d missed,
Was captured in that amber twist.
📜 The Clockmaker’s Negroni – The Recipe
- 1 oz Sweet Vermouth
- 1 oz Dry Gin
- 1 oz Amaro Montenegro
Instructions:
Stir slowly over ice—count every rotation like it matters.
Strain into a chilled rocks glass, neat or over one large cube.
No garnish. Time doesn’t need flair. Just a steady hand.