Ode to Red Wine

Came to a fork in the road, 

plod along like a thief on fire

in dire need of a saviour to make 

time pretty, less the sunset slides 

down to the lips of my mouth, 

praying in red to the lie of the noon;

footsteps made in stars sink heaven 

at the bottom of my glass.

Staining my legs and making me 

ache and confess.  That I 

want to sail fruitful in the treetops, 

soar to bathing in sweet crimson pools.

It soars down my throat in the gesture of 

a passion play, enough of each 

that my eyelids sour, 

my gaze turns liquid and

my heart thumps like horses drowning and coming 

to life in faeryland, made into feathers that drift 

through the woods in Irish summer, 

just off the sea, 

having their say and getting tangled in my hair, 

whispering that they love me, even though I'm a lush, 

a wino on a good day.  

Heat pulses from my city palms stroking country girl 

breezes on the base rim of my empty glass of red wine, 

in waves of wheatfields come home to me every night.

~ M. Lucia