Tonight's Poet Corner: The Taste of Noir

The Taste of Noir
by Belinda Roddie

Has anybody here sipped the red wine
from the tree stump in the middle of
no man's land? I hear it tastes sweet, like
embalming oil, and makes you feel weak
in your knees just before you fall asleep.

One girl brought a skin back full of the
stuff and watched seven men sink into
disarray after the first few swallows. Then,
she took all the money they had and rode
their horses back to town, vines in her hair
and a grape seed stuck in her teeth.

If you bend down real slow and put your
lips on the split wood, the wine rises up
like lava. That little volcano will swell you
up with all its earthly sacrifices, reminding
you through the deluge that what laughs
loses breath, what grows tall shrinks, and
even the merriest of drinkers all turn to
booze-speckled dust in the end.