Kiss of the Vine

Red wine,

kiss of the vine

touches my lips.

Nighttime pours into me

like viscous liquid

and my body becomes

tart berries, dark earth, rich magic.

Familiar longing,

a kind of drunkeness,

envelops me.

I stretch my thoughts towards yours like arms

and spark upon you in the dreaming ether,

where the hands of our minds

clasp in shared fate.

You are thinking of me too, you later tell me.

Imagining penetrating

the depths of my yearning,

entering the well of my solitude, bell-shaped like a glass,

and filling me

with your presence.

In the clear dawn of morning,

wine turns to water,

dreams to day.

I go to you

and we make love.


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