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She lay on the ivory carpet,

Stretched out,

Her head propped on one arm.


She circled the crystal rim

With her finger tip,

And dipped her tongue

Into the ruby wine,

Smiling mischievously

At the man seated on the sofa.

The red liquid glowed

In the single lamplight;

Her thighs gleamed golden

On the creamy rug.

‘You look so right there,’ he said,

‘As if you couldn’t be anywhere else.’

The half-whispered cliché

 So matched the moment

That her fingers fumbled on

The thin stem of the glass

And the crimson wine tipped over

Spreading like blood

On the spotless carpet.


‘Oh, Christ!’ he yelped,

Diving for tissues and grabbing

A bottle of tonic off the sideboard.

Together they mopped frantically,

Squelching the carbonated ale

Into the deep red stain

Until – finally -

The mark was just faintly pink.

‘I am so sorry,’

She managed at last to gasp.

‘That was so clumsy of me.

Will you need to bring in a

Professional cleaner?’

‘No, no, it will be fine.’

He pitched the papers into the bin

And sat again on the couch.

She dressed herself quickly,

Avoiding the big spot on the floor:

It was wet.

They shrugged and laughed,

A conscious silly sound.

And yet, the previous moment

Did not become comedic.

It existed separately as a truth

That could not be diminished.


Cynthia Buell Thomas

◄ Grandma at the Window

the little leaf ►


Pete Crompton

Fri 24th Sep 2010 10:37

"And yet, the previous moment

Did not become comedic. Well captured in words here Cynthia.

I like the way you have put the fact 'she looks so right there' like she is part of the sculpture of the wine glass stem.

reminds of a song lyric sung by Steve Hogarth

" theres a heart on her sleeve from a spill of red wine"

It existed separately as a truth

That could not be diminished"

a poem within a poem. There is something about this situation, this spilling wine situation,

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Tue 20th Jul 2010 00:05

Loved this Cynthia! There's something so beautiful about the gentle build of tension, the soft humour. It's an easy read and just the sort of poetry that suits a cosy evening in or a sunny day outside. I loved the little details, especially in that first stanza, the crystal rim, the creamy rug. All very nicely done.

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Lynn Dye

Mon 19th Jul 2010 20:01

I enjoyed this, Cynthia, unpredictable and amusing, life does that sometimes! x

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Chris Dawson

Mon 19th Jul 2010 09:10

I spilt a glass of red wine on my ma-in-law's brand new (expensive) cream carpet once - I was fully clothed at the time though, perhaps that's why she didn't find it funny ;)
I did wonder if this wouldn't suit being developed in to a short story?
I like the clever use of clichés throughout; poetically - I think 'a truth that could not be diminished' is something you could really develop. Interesting read.

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Andy N

Mon 19th Jul 2010 08:10

wasn't sure what way this was going to go, Cythnia - always a good skill..

enjoyed this a lot.. nice one x

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Dave Bradley

Sun 18th Jul 2010 21:32

It's amazing how often some little accident does mess up a special moment and at last someone has written a (very good) poem about it. Well done Cynthia.

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Ann Foxglove

Sun 18th Jul 2010 18:41

I liked this a lot Cynthia! It surprised me, made me laugh, made me think. Not bad for a semi-sunny summer Sunday! x

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 18th Jul 2010 16:06

A little something light and frothy on a semi-sunny summer Sunday afternoon.

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