Casked
I am the cask and the imbimber
Come to a stop at the base of
your rolling foothills resting on
velvety sweet green on this morn
Come to a stop at the base of
your rolling foothills of this long
journey – months falling into years
longing for a whisper through my
slatted boards, longing for a passing
touch – day to day – month to month
adds molten time to the burgeoning
pain – I can feel the blood red of me
bubble through a slivered crack here
and there – once I was the vine - the
wine - the beginning and all for you -
loved you and was loved in return –
now I lay pulped strained -
wine - the beginning and all for you -
loved you and was loved in return –
now I lay pulped strained -
– Cask and imbiber of all that was and
– all that seems will never be …trapped
– here at the foothills of your indifference
– left to inhale the scents of the stew
of life swirling outside – I exist on sips
of perhaps…here hidden in the sunshine
history and future-decomposing in a field
of butterflies and smoke
