Merlot
Dear dark bitter wine,
Take these thick damp clover questions,
Cast my pondering, upon the arch of the raven's wings,
Fade them bloody juice to skyward oblivion.
For I can no longer be chewed to the bone
With midnight's hidden longings.
My hazy hazel lenses hang on
To empty hollowed scribbling.
I must cheat one night,
Oh grapes be true and kind,
Away, now raven in flight
The blackest sleep for the grayest mind.
Copyright ©2008 John Carroll Walls
poem by John Walls
Added by Poetry Lover
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