a Sunday like red wine must

a Sunday like red wine must
as my expectations of your
sweet harvest lips, so tantalizingly close,
like pressed
bodies bubbling in
that Sunday Indian summer way
where outside heat
provides the stomping and
each gasp like long legs swirling down a glass
provides the buzz.

(written early this summer, revised today)

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4 Comments

Filed under drinking, love, poem, poetry

4 responses to “a Sunday like red wine must

  1. Baudalaire… Mallarme… Verlaine “…bodies bubbling in that Sunday Indian summer way” mixed with “…sweet harvest lips.” You make them proud with this one. Love it! – jp

  2. Baudalaire… Mallarme… Verlaine “…bodies bubbling in that Sunday Indian summer way” mixed with “…sweet harvest lips.” You make them proud with this one. Love it! – jp

  3. Woo hoo! What a comment! Thank you so much!!! -j

  4. Woo hoo! What a comment! Thank you so much!!! -j

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