A Whole Bottle Of Whine (Poetry)

I open the bottle
pour out a glassful of words
not the best words
but all I can afford

A splash of colour
but not much by way of body
a lack of sparkle, too
each sip more sour

The label has it wrong
it’s been a rotten year
old poisons in the soil
have found the fruit

No rich and round bouquet
no hint of Beaujolais
romance has gone the way
of the wino

These dregs from some vintage
turned gritty and cloudy
deposit like sediment
silt up the flow