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the corkscrew

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Summary:
The imagery and symbolism in this poem may be triggers for some, but it is hoped that it will serve more to inspire than to bring down.

In the cellar,
green‑glass vessels lean

           one against another,
   their shoulders dust‑padded,
        throats sealed tight.

 

Some wait decades,
stoppered against the tremor of hands
that might one day twist them open.

Others burst early,
foam rushing into the air
as if silence itself were unbearable.

 

             Life is a rack of bottles—
some forgotten in the corner,
                    labels blurred,
contents thickening into memory.

Others are restless,
pressing against their corks,
                       uncontainable,
a fizz that refuses to be archived.

 

                                And we—
      we are the corkscrews,
spiralling into the grain of our days,
levering against the stubborn seal,
      wondering whether release
                                   is celebration,
         or just another form of spilling.

 

 

 

 

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    10 COMMENTS

    1. I really like this
      The forgotten and the ones who have so much to say

      End then the poets…

      That was my take.

      I’m going to wait for the rest. Eagerly.

    2. Life is one of choice: perhaps be briefly advised but – more importantly take a small and slow sip. Pause, freshen thought. Another sip or two perhaps, decide as to what lingers: your apprectiation or distaste.

      The only problem is over-imbibing and losing any sense of good taste!

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