Glamour

The glamour of night has passed over

but while in its grace I held this gifted glass

by its thin stem, my fingers under

the beautiful blossom of its bell

and bore the weight of its water which

mimicked my blood

 

The glamour of night has passed over

but while in its grace I admired the angles

of this gifted glass

its water, which I took across the vault of my lips

gave it the delight of my tongue

and the warmth in my belly

 

The glamour of night has passed over

now without its grace my belly is cold

and my tongue is just my tongue again

I clean my gifted glass, so cautious when

my fingers are wet within it

I have almost dropped it twice

without it my tongue will always be

just my tongue