Poem: Skol

 

Skol

 

aged

through decadent flavors,

the sins of wine grow light,

 

devils and angels

slip robes to kiss,

happy in their weakness.

 

we revellers

of doomed heat,

we soon-starved flames,

 

let our lusts savor

and flare to quest,

down to the last sprigs 

of coriander and thyme.

 

a cup

 

to the first seductive sip,

and to that last glooming frisson

of spent shudders.

 

a cup,

 

let us drink,

as brave as the moment

proclaims we are.

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