“Sparkling red wine”

She pours it in,
tilting the mouth
toward an uneven pair of lips.
Her mouth full of locusts, chirping
and crunching over one another—
trying to escape deadly silence
at the bottom of the bottle.
“The bubbles always tickle
my nose,” she says, smiling—
as a set of hind legs
poke out from
the gap in her front
teeth; The creature inside her
still alive; Restless. She slurps it
down like a cello bow scraping
the sides of her throat.
Then, she belches;
Tilting the mouth
toward an uneven pair of lips.
Her mouth full of locusts, chirping again.
She pours it in.
Remarks about the bubbles.
Belches some up.
Pours it in. Bubbles.
Pours bubbles belch.
Belches pour bubbles.
Bubbles belch pour.
Pours belches bubble.
Bubble belch.
Belch bubble.
Bubble, bubble, bubble.
Belchy belch bubble.
Bubble, bubble.
Belch-belch-belch-belch.

narrative poem written on 11-30-2011 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem

SHARE THIS POEM!

- Remove line breaks