THIS GLASS OF WINE

This glass of wine is empty now.

Its bottom stained red with the bloody remnants

of a fruitful endeavor forgotten

by the very lips

that kissed

its body.

They’re

filled now,

content now,

intoxicated now

from love’s passion

and have no need for more wine;

no need for a glass that’s full.

 

 

                                  © p. donovan 2006