There is [wine]
in the cup.
The foamy surface clings
to itself
and the cup
and the flesh
that tested its
integrity
and
strength.
There is [wine]
in the mouth.
The frothy fluid clings
to the teeth
and the throat
and the cup
now chattering
against teeth
biting down
deep wails.
There is [wine]
in the flesh.
The heated fluid clings
to the veins
and the cup
and the floor
that waits
for the flesh
to follow
it down.
There is [wine]
on the ground.
The intoxicating fluid clings
to the tongue
of the mouth
of the panther
of the god
that kisses it
clean
off my neck.