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Sep 1st, 2009 | By Eric Miller | Category: Poetry | 274 viewsAlone in a bar, I tread
water in a bottle of wine,
savoring its petulant
petillance which tickled
my skin
I stared into each bubble
in search of an answer,
but before I could find it
in the clear crystal shell,
it burst
But a singular bubble of
larger size rose from the
sediment to the ullage above,
where it began to babble
to me about things I didn’t
want to hear.
The tickle of the petillance
waned and I ordered another
bottle of wine, but this time
non-sparkling.
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About Eric Miller: Eric Miller is a retired dentist who has laid down his drill for a quill. His work appears or is forthcoming in Foundling Review, Calliope Nerve, Clockwise Cat, Flutter Poetry Journal, Poetry Friends, The Cynic Online Magazine, Word Catalyst, Short Humour, Word Slaw, Stories that Lift, Blink | Ink, Boston Literary Magazine, Writers’Bloc (Rutgers), The Storyteller, and The Stray Branch. |
©2009 Eric Miller All Rights Reserved
