The Warp

Poem: Drunk after Lunch

We were drunk after lunch my love, drunk

with rough red wine and each other. And now

I wonder what could ever be better,

what more could the good life bring

than this; the water teeming past our pointed island,

our secret room in this crowded street,

you playing recorder,

our bed and the world it holds in its

pool of lamplight, our little stove,

its wandering fumes and wondrous succulent feastings.

We were drunk after lunch my love, drunk

with rough red wine and each other. And I

drunk my love, drunk with you.

You with your gilded hair and your curving

body that gives me vertigo as if

high on a tower, and your lisping

wanton mouth and the words it frames,

wanton lisped lovely words, framed

like invisible rosebuds.

We were drunk after lunch my love, drunk, my love,

and oh that we’ll never forget it,

but that all these several drunkenness

will combine to make one memory

of drinking, music, loving and feasting

and deep sleep, deep like love or the grave,

deep with our love and the rough red wine.

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