You are the soul of wine,
grapes on a vine:

I sip you with my mouth
and lap at you with my tongue,
fork the illusion of bits down
my throat, hopping & hope

this will not be my last glass,
tonight is a celebration:
you bubble inward, far within

my simple mind delved
into the bottle’s head & heart,

but the spirit has not a pulse,
just a rhythm of what
I put inside, the soul of wine.