Log Cabin Chronicles

Final Offering


Two golden cups
resting on white marble
unadorned for all.

I offer you wine, old lover…
But you forget the brass bells
ringing in your ear.

Crystal, pale, yellow liquid
Swelling your emptiness
Into a colorless mystery
Of fragmented thoughts.

The magical power of wine
reminiscent of ancient times,
so they claim.
Perhaps, celebrating
a Roman truth.

Wild echoes of the past
Paint my walls white and gray
Faint cries and stale emotions…
Running in fear
away from you.

Courage wailing
As new wine is fermenting
From another continent.

Anna Panunto is a Montreal-based poet

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Copyright © 2006 Anna Panunto