Sour Wine

I feel
Your fingers
In between
My ribs
Trying
To
Pull
Something out
I really
Don’t know
What,
I’m
Just trying
To put
All of
My olives
Back
In the jar
They
Have spilt
All over
The table-
The pasta
Has boiled
Over
Turned to
Mush
The wine
Sour
Left-over
From
Last night
Someone
Has ashed
In it
And you
You
Keep
Pushing
And poking
Twisting it
Like
A Thomas
Who
Does not
Doubt
I doubt
I wonder
Where
Is my
Next breath
Coming from
Will
I ever
Fit into
My pants
Be able
To walk
Without
A cane
In my mind
I’m trying to figure out
Where
To go
What to do
With
Pasta mush
And a
Bottle of
Sour wine