Monday, May 23, 2011

Yet Another Extended Metaphor Poem: The Wino Confesses Her Addiction

This is a fairly obvious extended metaphor. I think instead of spelling it out this time, for once, I'll just let it speak for itself. So, that being said, here ya go. . .


The Wino Confesses Her Addiction

He's a ripe grape --
crushed, strained, bottled, and
fermented.
When he finally
comes to me,
he's finely aged,
full-bodied,
with dry overtones,
and most importantly,
completely intoxicating.
He comes with a warning
Label that I never
bother to read.

He sits chilled
and breathing
and encased in a shapely package
that gleams
and glistens
as beads of moisture
form upon it.
His heady scent
and taste evoke
danger and thrills
and secrets and late-nights and
things we shouldn't do but would never
take back.

I greedily swallow him down.
I want to take in every
last drop of him,
know every note
of his flavor,
have him
deep inside me
as I become an expert in
the ways in which
he wields his weapons.

He never fails
to seduce me,
when he chooses
to do so.
All it takes is a waft
of his oaky aroma
in my direction,
a gleam from
a bead of moisture
on his wrapping,

I lose myself to him.
It's a fight
I'll never win.
He'll always get his way
with me.
I'm powerless
against this vice
and though I know
I shouldn't drink so greedily
from his cup,
I can't help but gulp
ravenously.

copyright 2009 Katherine Andrews

1 comment:

bumfuzzled said...

nice work ;) reminds me of plath's "metaphors" :)

bummy