September 9, 2012

poem 315 of a poem a day for 2012

another bottle of Brunello di Montalcino without you

I slowly unwind
meandering through
the Sangiovese vines
that weaved along
on either side
of the steep stone path
I walked up today

old Autumn has swept in
from the mountains
and lashes its slow fingers
into the ripening sugars
grapes catch the night licks
and remember
the wind and water
and cut angle Sun each time
they turn the wheel

through the open windows
that let in the cool air
they say keep
the pots a-boiling
roiling, between my hands
daily picking desire
with crimson soles
on my mind

you press your tides
with your hoisted hem
maiden Goddess
of the woods
call my blood home
to be bottled
when the leaves
start falling

and there is
a sweet scent
of your fires
burning near
my dissolve
on the patios
little dug rings
crackle haired
and flicking ashes
climbing to find
where sweet bursts
might be waiting
in the morning

so I sip some more
and linger with
these red stains
on my lips
wanting nothing
but the grottoes
to open their songbook
to gain entry
to where you might be


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