The Dark Angel[i] Slithering through the leadwort and scurvygrass[ii]; Stumbling on the stubble of a Saturday night binge, she mumbles a curse across the nettles’ needles A cross to cross across the green. She leans against the old stone wall munching on rhubarb from a rusty pail. The promise of a pie floats beyond the hills. The piper’s pipe rests on the edge of the well. A trace of tobacco rides the air. Yaowarat[iii], 2020 (In the Year of …
Tag: Dumplings
“Must” & Other Poems by Robert Beveridge
Must Juice is wrungfrom the grapeswith a wooden pressor, nicer, feet. This is donea few times, how manydepends on the grapes and what is left is must.Exhausted, pulpy,but, with essence given,imperative. The juice will,of course, make wine,ferment inside wetbarrels, gain potency. But the must, the structure,can lie on the tonguewithout change, slipdown into the throat,taste of sweetness,exhaustion. Oneiromancer You ask yourself for the hundredthtime how much fish sauce is toomuch, add it, throw in another twotablespoons for good …