Blind Tasting

I love you. And why shouldn’t I?

You silence me and

color me in this tornado

of aromas

and when at it

you also quench my twirling soul.

I may not be much

to offer,

I may not be a blessing

in disguise

but I do care
more than those morsels of regret

we ingest at dawn

and the crumbs of temptation

locked in my hair.

No waste of words,

No sacrifice too painful

to be borne,

no demons

to feed

on our living flesh and bones.

Sanguine echoes

in this cup’s warmth,

on this square marble table
we are born.

Again.
And again.
And again.

Innumerable anticipation sighs
around us,

Dry lips redeem our sobbing

and our vintages

in front of a teary east wind.

Out-of-sight, never in vain,

we mirror our own reflection

behind a thirsty blackout

keeping us quietly in love.