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Bring your cracked smiles and tall tales

To my patient table.

Purple rings stain the grain;

Life leaves marks.

Let fly your cackles that snap and spark

In the dark corners,

Urging a sluggish grub to quickness,

To feel her still-sheathed wings.

Wine flows like talk,

Easing the hinges of doors to past selves

And window catches to new views,

Fresh air.

Word-weaving, we thread together

The magenta warp of deep laughter,

The soft pastel weft of mundane sorrows

To magic cloth that wraps and warms

Souls gone grey with routines we never dreamed

And gone-over loves.

Blurting secrets in a jolt,

Like a wine bottle knocked:

Red-spreading pool blotted, but indelibly inked

Into the Rorsach of maturing friendship.

In the hiatus eyes meet,

And Judgement’s place in the cold

Is sealed with a re-filled glass.

 

 

 

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6 thoughts on “Wine with friends

  1. The first poem by Polly Oliver that I read. When she is asked for her Occupation in any context as ‘Occupation of Parent’ when filling in forms for her children’s various activities, I recommend that she writes POET in that box.

    Like

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