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
EJR
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