28 January 2026

The NS Poem: Before the Clinking of Glasses

A new poem by Christopher Horton

Photo by Fernando Duran/Millennium

To us – the first to eclipse
the moon, to re-arrange the stars,
to peer into the open mouths

of baited copperheads, to howl across
the frozen tundra with packs
of hungry Arctic wolves, to sip

sweet nectar from Hebe’s golden cup.
Forget the try-hards, the fakes,
the closeted fools of modern youth,

who would sooner have their brains frozen,
their tissue cryogenically revived,
than learn the ways of jellyfish.

Recall the promises we made,
the songs we sang to keep us warm
on the most unforgiving nights.

How we thought ourselves immortal,
that we could transform base metals
into gold and split the subatomic

particles left in light and air
with nothing more than words,
as if our lives depended on it.