Poem: Drunkenelle | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

Oh how I loath the red devil that is wine.

Feverishly sucking the life from my lips,

All filled with the warmth of an undefined time.


Glasses remain steady as though empty were crime.

Soon my whole body veers and tips...

Oh how I loath the red devil that is wine.


Our words tangle and entwine

as we swash and swish our gentle sips—

All filled with the warmth of an undefined time.


Glasses clink, and chink and chime.

But, eyelids droop and headaches nip...

Oh how I loath the red devil that is wine.


With our thoughts we've built a shrine

of sluggish banter and witty quips,

All filled with the warmth of an undefined time.


Fruit from the Gods, grape from the vine,

Come morning we'll suffer the hangover's grip.

But, oh how I love the red devil that is wine,

Filled with the warmth of an undefined time.

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