24.11.06

MADEIRA






smoky ruins run
between hills

the faint scent of
slaughterhouse sunsets

distills where pepper
and spices help
hide the deed

with a whole brood
of raisins crushed
for this need






2 comments:

Shasta said...

ouch.

thorngrubber said...

That poem is simply a description of the flavor of madeira wine. I was enjoying a glass on a Thursday afternoon, and the taste was so evocative to me, I was compelled to write that.

Cheers ;)