Pepper-Side Down
By Christopher Watkins
Suspend disbelief for the moment
to watch her fine white hands
and slender fingers
twist the shining silver
of the grinder;
Be patient, study
the coarse grains on the blanched
white circle of your plate,
each as different
as a blackened snowflake;
Let your tongue
touch the moist crease
at the joining of your lips
as she lets the peat-brown square of chocolate
down onto your napkin;
Listen now, listen
as she tells you what to do—
Your eyes, be they brown,
blue, or gray, don't leave the dark recesses
of her fine Italian eyes,
the blue at the long ends of the tunnels,
you're staring at them as she talks,
guiding the chocolate and your tongue
towards one another—
"Lick one side of the chocolate,"
and you do it, eyes
still on her face,
almost slow motion...
"Dip the wet side in the pepper,"
and you do it, eyes
still on her face,
almost slow motion...
You have your wine glass in your hand,
you drink when she tells you to.
My God, you think,
orange chocolate and freshly ground organic pepper,
what has this woman done to me?
"Have another sip of wine,"
and you do it, converted.





Nice. From someone who calls herself a winepoet, despite not writing any wine poetry in quite a while.
Posted by: farley | February 06, 2007 at 08:04 PM