Apparition Poem #1488

for Julie Hayes

liquor store, linoleum
    floor, wine she chose
was always deep red,
    dark, bitter aftertaste,
unlike her bare torso,
which has in it
all that ever was
      of drunkenness—
to miss someone terribly,
to both still be in love, as
she severs things because
she thinks she must—
    exquisite torture, it’s
  a different bare torso,
(my own) that’s incarnadine—

P.S. And differently formatted in The Seattle Star.