Tonight's Poet Corner: Thirteen Hundred Riesling
Thirteen Hundred Riesling
by Belinda Roddie
The staunch, fit benefactor
prized open a bottle with gold teeth and
silver spit, licking the grapevine above his
mortar head. No glass for him. He
wished to serve the jewel mines of his
family. Fortune wrought with spinning wheels.
Fragmented heart to hearts with supposed
fancy titles. Disinfected within an
oaken barrel.
"Will you drink for me?" he asked. Not
drink with him - for him. Ever the
charismatic beggar. Cardboard cut-out of
extremities. The sweetness is somewhat
palpable. A smile cracks in two above a
glass stem. The cinnamon is spread. The
ice is served in buckets. The meal is
dry and uncouth. But at
least the wine is good.
by Belinda Roddie
The staunch, fit benefactor
prized open a bottle with gold teeth and
silver spit, licking the grapevine above his
mortar head. No glass for him. He
wished to serve the jewel mines of his
family. Fortune wrought with spinning wheels.
Fragmented heart to hearts with supposed
fancy titles. Disinfected within an
oaken barrel.
"Will you drink for me?" he asked. Not
drink with him - for him. Ever the
charismatic beggar. Cardboard cut-out of
extremities. The sweetness is somewhat
palpable. A smile cracks in two above a
glass stem. The cinnamon is spread. The
ice is served in buckets. The meal is
dry and uncouth. But at
least the wine is good.
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