The Rhyme Maker
Theme: Wine Drinkers
For The RoadLittle
Apples of SanlúcarMaenad
drinkers . . . we all have our "rough nights" . . . "When morning
dawns/ On claret-soaked bedsheets/ Like crime scenes,/ Like sacrificial
altars . . . "
This poem deserves more than a single read- through. Rich.
interesting word-play here, beginning with the title. Also take a
second look at the woman's name featured in this poem: MERlindia
LOTharia . . .
-S. H. Bass
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About Anthony Beal:
Anthony Beal is a food blogger and WSET3 wine scholar. The creator of
Food, Wine, and Spirits Blog, FlavorfulWorld.com, he currently resides
in the Washington, D.C. area, and is a member in good standing of the
American Institute of Wine & Food, the International Wine Guild, the
Society of Wine Educators, and the French Wine Society. Anthony has
earned a Cellar Manager certification through the International Wine
Guild as well as a Hospitality and Beverage Specialist Certificate from
the Society of Wine Educators. When he isn’t cooking and/or eating
delicious things, he enjoys traveling, reading, studying Japanese
language and culture, and being a devoted husband and father.
Anthony Beal on the Web:
Anthony Beal, American poet
first time I heard
emptied jug laugh.
side in my bed,
where she had lain,
neck and mine
scoffed at the hopes
whispered into it.
whispered her name in after them,
the laughter stopped,
enough for me to
that it hadn’t.
aria of dreaming and drowning,
pretense to the next.
handlers stand behind their masks
greet me by name in places I’ve never been,
drinks and marked cards
my hands; hands still wet, still warm
tearing silks, from clutching wine-sweetened breast.
I’m dancing on my stomach and hers.
with security deposits I’ll never see back.
and landladies crowd my doorway,
hold scowling contests that blur at the corners.
laughs hardest when I break it
the nightstand edge,
rampant mania that leaves her sore
way she demands I do, growing angry if I don’t.
shards raise mocking choruses
glitter and rouge trailing across my chest,
emaciated wallets and unpaid bills,
cupboards deserted but for the cockroaches
amidst secret cobweb fortresses.
starving too, slowly,
makes me laugh.
it feels good to laugh.
emptied jug laughs back at me from a future of ink,
awaits Merlindia Lotharia
to hurt each other like man and wife,
pretend until dawn to want more than what we have.
© 2015 Anthony
Beal . All Rights Reserved.