Raspberry Wine

Musty antiquity within. Spice inside a cauldron of ripe reason. Five months unshelved brewing boiling now the suave coolness, animals don’t know how to simmer their lovebroth like this. Only the Titan breath, what they desired remained. The world was dark, centralised spherical the centre imposed upon her perfect cheekbones his horned chest woolen jumper swollen with clues breasts rising like meringues in a brick oven on her lips hung her whole life he extracted from her lips what he knew she was dying to give. Ambience, randomosity, the haze of a lantern stage-lit movement in dust eyes swivelled, bottles made their pleas to be known wise ancestral spirits The gallery browsed. Time stuck between the molars. Abandoned corner; hazelnut liquer, pomegranate blood and something else. They sat on the ground with this raspberry wine and sipped each other profoundly, irrevocably. She, mineral rich rivulets of stone-clean water, soft aquamarine. He, present like limestone crumbling to a silent past, frictitious, only lovers perch on the cracked mantle of reality like this, only they hear the moment's plea for recognition. Copyright. 2009.