Wine

from lava-poured hillsides
steep with sunlight
hot with scoria
knotted with vines
the volcano sends
its ruby-slippered loveletter
dancing like homesickness
along my tongue

Whine

the red wine's
bloodsucking refrain

I miss you
I miss you
I miss you

pitches and shrills
all night long
against the torn
mosquito nets
of my dreams

Wahine

you stroke
the wine glass
like a lover:
her curves
as cool
her hollows
as fluted
her flavours
as ruby-faceted
as mine
when you bring me
to your lips

© Helen Sword