"Poem In Praise of the Parallel Pleasures of Whine" Finalist In 'The Summer Pleasure Poetry Contest"

"The judging quickly deteriorated. Soon, the judges were a-chanting four lines -- immediately beloved at first reading -- from Lorna Dee Cervantes’ entry (“POEM IN PRAISE OF THE PARALLEL PLEASURES OF WHINE”):

Thrust the tip of your tongue
into the grape. Give me a date
and I'll flush you
up a hogshead of Grigio --"


Overheard at The Chatelaine Poetics by Eileen Tabios, inventor of the hay(na)ku form, & co-sponsored by The Meritage Press. I was in it for the books. Now, I'll have to buy that list. There are worse things. Besides, I got a poem out of it that I really like a lot. And, besides, it got me a lot of mileage out of my own Model-T. tee hee. You can read the winning poems here. I was bummed out about losing until I saw the list of what good company I was in. And, now I really don't care, as I've read the winning poem and it's really good (for being picked by "a bunch of drunks" -- no Floetry, here.) And, I have a new favorite poet to explore, Joanne Fuhrman. Leave it to Hanging Loose, one my favorite presses, to publish a winner. Look for another winning poet from them, a first book by my former student, Mandy Broaddus.

“Whatever, whatever,” another judge said. “I still think that ‘Parallel Whine’ poem the best…besides, this Lorna Dee Cervantes comes off as a lusty woman and I like my women like I like my wine: lusty!”

Yeah! Somebody scratch that beard . . .

And, here's the poem. Now, any good guesses as to how I might go about trying to sell it to the winery?
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POEM IN PRAISE OF THE PARALLEL PLEASURES OF WHINE
By Lorna Dee Cervantes


Whiney pleasures
take no measure
of Time's forest -- that
shred of do-this,
do-that-well and
on time. This time
take it to a sip,
savor the rim of
the glass, the last
molecule exploding
on the tongue. Do me
these winey pleasures,
tokes of Tokay, riches
of richness in the silk
cloth of aging -- exquisitely --
the soft bites of autumn,
the sirens of summer
simmering sweetly on the side
of somewhere else. Go outside.
Take a drink. Glide me
in your huddle. Dissolve
me in invisible tannins, musky
aperitifs, wry wisps of oak
still clinging to the cask.
Take it in. Sweetly. Dryly
slide another mile
onto the odometer -- drive
away what drives joy
from the empty mouth.
Take this! Little Os
of bubbles pleasuring up
the shaft, the glass
going crystal, the blush
Rosé of cleaving. First time
explosions ridiculing the meal,
sublime cherries chiding
from the choir's zymurgy.
Do me like that -- over long time
and long time over. Do me
in the crush, the bust --
the declothing of the fruit --
the finishing expulsion.
Skim the form of old
lovers from my memory.
Marry me to your Merlot.
Teeth me in the taste of a
transcendent '00 Trentino.
Snuggle me in your '99 Napa
Sauvignon. Pull out your old
vin Zin -- Folie å Deux! And
wish me off with a honeymoon
of honey mead to my late
dessert Last Harvest stick.

List me on your label.
(A little-known Negrette.)
Covet me in the cellar
of your sensual dreaming. I'm lucid
as a 2002 Los Carneros Chardonnay,
piquant and racy as a sparkling Pinot
Noir. You and I, a Rotari Blanc de Noir.
Thrust the tip of your tongue
into the grape. Give me a date
and I'll flush you
up a hogshead of Grigio --
La Tunella, the apple
I keep inside -- for you, my
mineral note, my tongue-curling
Casanova: Brunello Di Mantalcino
to my barrell-aged Chardonnay.

And, afterwards, we'll toast
and drop. And rise, dry
and sec with a floral aroma,
musk-driven, blood-rushed
as a '70 Vega Sicilia: Unico,
beautiful Signore, cedar and
spice to cleanse and clear,
tobacco and the smudge
of complex leather: a lusty Mt.
Veeder Pinot Noir. Concentrated.
Seductive. A long, long finish.


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"List me on your label.
(A little-known Negrette.)"
~ my favorite lines