Cork Taint
April 18, 2014
I miss you
when the wine
sinks in
to my hollows
and swishes around
the sighing distance
between when
we were one
and then not
The longing leaves
rooted truffles
cellar corners
and sodden newspaper
in my mouth
But I don’t swallow
Knowing it had gone bad
Instead I pour
the black mold flecked regret
down the drain
1 comments
I can taste this one. I want to scrape my tongue.
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