Bottle me up
fill me to the brim
Posture me on your grainy shelf
Watch as I
Scoot my ribbed bottom closer and closer to the ledge
I inching over bourbon blondes
like a solo cup at a wedding
Anxiously awaiting a lofty bouquet toss
I await to be uncorked
Ah, the moment you grip my glass
and collapse a key into me
OPEN and ALIVE.
Please let me air-ate  
Let my maroon acid settle like freckles
on your tongue
See how my tannins feel like cannons right in the ribs down to the gut?
Notice how my words are cabernet crisp?
It is a beautifully intoxicating experience to break me down from solid to liquid

This is not my true form

I am solid.
I am a cascade. a basalt boulder. at the very, least a cloudy glacier not meant to melt and definitely not meant to be bottled.
I am a mountain.
Delicious if you are willing to trek to the top.