Raspberry Wine
Musty antiquity
within.
Spice inside
a cauldron
of ripe reason.
Five months
unshelved
brewing boiling
now the suave coolness,
animals don’t know
how to simmer their lovebroth
like this.
Only the Titan breath, what they desired remained.
The world was dark, centralised
spherical
the centre imposed
upon her perfect
cheekbones
his horned chest
woolen jumper swollen with clues
breasts rising like meringues in a brick oven
on her lips hung her whole life
he extracted from her lips
what he knew she was
dying to give.
Ambience, randomosity, the
haze of a lantern
stage-lit movement in dust
eyes swivelled, bottles made
their pleas to be known
wise ancestral spirits
The gallery browsed.
Time stuck
between the molars.
Abandoned corner;
hazelnut liquer, pomegranate
blood and something else.
They sat on the ground
with this raspberry wine
and sipped each other
profoundly, irrevocably.
She, mineral rich
rivulets of stone-clean water,
soft aquamarine. He, present
like limestone
crumbling to a silent past,
frictitious, only lovers perch
on the cracked mantle
of reality like this,
only they hear the moment's plea
for recognition.
Copyright. 2009.
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