This was written for Read Write Poem Prompt #69: What’s Eating You? I decided to go the drink route and explored wine for this week’s poem. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
-Nicole
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to think that this wine
is liquid ghost –
grapes dying for our pleasure,
he thinks
as he takes another sip
this blood
of nations
drained through wily ancestral incantations
and sold for export
this blood
slipping past our lips
as kingdoms rise and fall
like the chest
of this blue globe breathing
and through millennia dancing
to the tune of the stars
and the beat of a strange drummer –
we know not who
he sips again
ah, this fermented, aubergine blood
so sweet, so sharp
and so cruel
one slip of the blade
and your mind’s gone
floating away on some easy dream
while time mutates into a slow-moving faded fog
and the room waves languidly
cheating waterfalls out of crystalline beauty
by its fluid dancing
and shadows
beckon
from within red, silken corners
he gently rotates his wrist
watches this burgundy
dance, rise, and fall
within his glass
licking and swirling up
the sides
then smiles
and celebrates the
death of grapes
with another sip
and the touch of his lips
to those of his beauty
her own lips
painted in wine tints
slick and shiny
in the glow of candlelight
he parts her lips
with his tongue
and moves
from one intoxication
to another
deep within these walls
deep within this
Viennese
Night
Written 3/12/09
© 2009 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
The image is a perfect complement to the poem, like the right wine chosen to complement a good meal
Nice. One thing I love about wine (scotch and good ale, too) is the artistry and slow, careful processes behind it. This captures some of that quite nicely.