Wining, Dining, Dancing & Romancing

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Wining, Dining, Dancing & Romancing by Natalie Wilson

I love you more than cherry wine
you smack my lips of sweetness
And to feel your skin--a touch divine
That crushes me with weakness

I see myself
barefoot, naked,
standing
the glistening chrome tub of grapes
wrapped round me as a bullring.
Waiting.
Head up. Chin out.
Watch. Watch. Watch.
Will right.
Eye contact. Go.

Music, latin, pulse of a heartbeat
tremors like an earthquake:
exotic, intoxicating pounding ripe
pulling my feet with its strings.

My arms swirl. Hips sway.
Eyes close. The world tilts, and a vision
opens before me,
oval, flashing and green,
thick with love and sex and goddesses.
A cat's eye slit, widening to lips beckoning me closer,
come in, come in, closer my love, they purr,
giant red raindrops splashing my face,
tempting me to taste this dream
of dancing.

My fingers whisper. My hair soars, lifts and twists
and wriggles with Medusa strength,
out and away from my naked body.
And I am not ashamed.
My lips reach to kiss the giant beckoning me,
to touch my tongue to this wordless seduction,
and my feet sink slip stamp to the

music, still floating up, out, tune wildly concocted
in wet grapes swollen bodies bursting at the blessingv of my feet,
purple tears streaming nectar into puddles at
the bottom of the barrel.

And I cannot help but dance,
swing my breasts and throw my head back
in ecstatic concentration as my feet work to free
my mind, my eyes, my lips, my fingers.

The purple seeps cross my ankles, drinking them up.
And the stain grows, climbs my legs, spreading them apart,
crossing my belly, into the pit of my back.
Darker, darker, tasting my flavour, rubbing me with riches,
savouring my bouquet.
And I feel the intoxicate mixing with my blood,
feel my bones ferment and waver,
heat rays at midday, my body rippling
before my own eyes.

And I twist, turn, stamp, squish, as the vision returns,
great lips wider, open more, pulsing like a heartbeat,
whispering me closer.
And my knees weaken as blood becomes wine,
head becomes light,
and the sun explodes under my closed eyes like fireworks
never getting off the ground.
And my muscles relax as I bring the lips to mine,
drink vision, touch my purple skin
and step in.
And when I draw the lips closed
the music grows louder,
and I wait for the warmth
to swallow me whole.

From: Neoverse: Northeastern Ontario Poetry , by Monique Chenier, Melanie Marttila, and Natalie Wilson. Published by Your Scrivener Press, Sudbury, 1998. Pgs. 40-47. ISBN 1-896350-06-2.