a poem by: jennifer
a glass of wine....
poured at 8:00
still untouched at 8:45
one might think it intentional
let it breathe
a bit hot and heavy...
forgotten until it is upended by a flailing limb
during loves passionate embrace.
but no. very much no.
i do not live like the fruit fly.
a life that revolves on wine and sex.
and yet, as i gaze...
into my wine glass
i find myself curious as to what life would be like
and then die.
in a glass of cabernet sauvignon.
because the reason the glass was here for the taking
by the fast living insect now dead
was because of the:
tapeworm in the kitten
while the wine is forgotten