Red Grapes
In order to see the world’s evils clearly
They redden their eyes on the branch
Until they believe the warm wind’s praise
In order to become waves in our blood
They offer their lives to the wine cellar
In my glass, the blood of their youth
Tries to send waves through my heart
It’s a jockey riding my bloodstream
Loosening age’s reins—
I used dirty words I don’t normally use
Nearly scaring awake my dead relatives
I fell fast asleep with my arms around love
And, waking, couldn’t find my lover
I fit right in at a banquet in the city
And finally realize, love is wine’s tax
High taxes make wine noble
A crate of red wine
Is a crate of Van Goghs—do you believe that?
A crate of red grapes
Is a crate of nipples—do you believe that?
2020-08-23 13:42:20
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