Saturday, March 19, 2005

POEM - 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


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