Of Lips, Mother, and Wine by Tom WordWulf SternerHowe

Of Lips, Mother, and Wine

I will build you a house
and a garden of bones
where Children go laughing
and men live alone.
I’ll tell you a story of lips, mother, and wine.

From the mouths of mime puppets,
a tumble of words,
tied to the feet of whistling birds.
A tangle of whimsy to lay on your breast,
whose eyes taste the winter
and none of the rest.
I’ll tell you a story of lips, mother, and wine.

When ere we go crawling
on feathering knee,
through long shadow canyon,
a cloud scattered sea.
See... make a pillow,
a death reminisce,
of lovers gone falling
to steal a sweet kiss.
I’ll tell you a story of lips, mother, and wine.

I will build you a house
and a garden of bones,
where Children go laughing
and men live alone.

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