Back before university descended upon us like an autumn fog of Knowledge and all our dreams were consumed by Learning Things, Raphael and I made blackberry wine. Since then it sits in the chai room and bubbles occasionally.
from a bright and flimsy
I thought by now you’d be mine.
Autumn leaves fringe but
the night sky is already winter and
the first splinter
enters the heart.
Sun set spills red, each day my head fills
with what I don’t quite want to know.
Past dreams: where do they go?
And the moon, she flies and then sets
and yet, and yet
Inside a tea chest of hope
bucket of bubbles, best before, or, marinating miracle
will you ripen and unfold
long past your season
and into the time of cold
giddy wonder as, outside of reason, stories are told
black-as-winter, blackberry wine.