daughters of bacchus

Cold virgin glass, curves swallowed, wallowing

In piteous self-contempt, deep red wine

Full pressed grapes crushed under feet reveling

Intrepid bare toes, fast gripping tied vines

A look in the lake, she ventures to take

Ambulant Sistine, tiered awnings stretch taut

As cacophonous silence, heart waves, break

The wall. Oh Troy! Poor defender now caught

This statue stands. Face sculpted by Venus,

Where does your lover lie? Beneath blue pools.

There he fell. Lips once firm now grate in rust

The blooming garden’s heat and courage cools

Mothers hide your sons, we are the beauty

That kills kings and doms. Only the blind see.