She reads by candle
in the little kitchen
by the rain-licked window,
pushing against a dark
that's black as pepper,
black as the merlot bottle.

It's empty, the bottle,
neck used for candles.
As for the pepper,
it spread across the kitchen
in the quasi-dark,
when she opened the window.

No - that window
is a lie. So is the bottle,
& the rest. I tried the dark
against the candle,
in the mind's kitchen,
got stuck on pepper.

Let's try again: pepper
falls like snow in the dark
when I'm in the kitchen
making dinner, bottles
open for tasting, candles
lit against the coming dark...

Much better. Seal this dark,
speckled with salt and pepper,
with the soft wax of candles.
Open the window,
tilt the bottle,
dance in the kitchen,

the new kitchen -
feel the call of the dark -
drink from the same bottle,
Burgundy earthy as pepper,
close the windows
& touch me with the candle.

I drink from the bottle in the black kitchen,
ignoring the cold candle in the dark.
There's pepper blowing out the window.