POEM - Wine

Wine

After Night has had its way;
After all the dismantling;
When I am alone with muffled calm;
When I am done with handling

All of the self inflicted doubt ---
I am wine that sits decanting
Made giddy with the thought of flight
As I face one more replanting

Splash me recklessly on the ground
So I may fill the cracked dry dirt
Drink me full with the hardest lust
I am free of wounds but not the hurt –

Healed at the altar of our art,
Cauterized by this grateful heart.


M C Biegner
3/2005