(for Marissa Amador)
Some idiot was pouring out your wine.
Such acts, though, are their own clear punishment.
Out from the bowels of their discontent,
The wretched give a self-destructive sign.
The Hell of Winelessness they stand in line
To enter, hot to know the dire event.
Of madness they will not at last repent.
On dust and rotten filth they’re sure to dine.
Some idiot was pouring out earth’s blood,
The essence of the grape that grants elation.
He’d rather try to sip depressing mud
And seek thrills in imagined copulation.
His every mindless gesture is a dud.
He himself has proclaimed his condemnation.