I Fell Into a Glass of Wine
my feet same the cries of deer in the morning,
disturbs the existence of aged wine,
much too
drank, while the smoke of elation,
almost non-existent
it hits you across the cheek
and entail questioning
What did you write in yesterday's history?
Carrying all the words of the world in your hands you clench your knees
as broken rudders,
reproachfully,
The roots disturb the sky,
you wish you could decide
when your identity of yesterday and of today
it's not the same
when the verb decency has been lost,
respect gnawed at the walls of a foreign hourglass. You melt as rain,
on the face of a monk and flow.
All you have most sacred in your life is:
The day you were born
and the day you die
wrapped in a thread of basil.
Copyright © Elena Mihalachi | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment