sour wine bottle of the last evening
and nausated bottle of the aliqour left behind
desolate absurd glass wall
curving around old ships
not only that container symbol…
If I were to define
then bottles would have been rather to pour
than to confine
and women more like clocks
for rhytmical chances
but bottles enclose all the lips rounded in contact
the ever opened kiss
the secret of flow and drip
genetically engraved in each forgoten bottle
the jewel miracle of poison bootle
out of fashion scenery
French enigma of sparkling
archeological wrinkles ashes hiding
and of course the powders
spreading so sadly when broken.