Lindsay McLeod, ‘Last Call’

If this isn’t what you’ve yearned for
or indeed what you are craving
then cup your hands, drink deeply
of a sweeter misbehaving.

If you cannot find your wine inside
the glass that you were given,
taste the new with eyes and thighs
and dye your lips a deep vermillion

with a juice that has been pressed
from vines let grow out of control
that taste of summertime and
sex and drugs and rock and roll

because if you…

find distaste in your final breath
dressed in another’s ill fit clothes
remember, this did not just happen
sweetheart, this is what you chose.

*****

Lindsay McLeod is an Australian poet that has won a few things and is widely published. He just had to start messing about with words again lately. You’d think he’d know better by now, but oh no. Some of his most recent work can be found in DILLYDOUN REVIEW, GRAND LIL THINGS, DRAWN TO THE LIGHT, POETiCA and MORTAL MAGAZINE.

RHL: In addition to Mr McLeod’s self-description, let me add that I have been trying and failing to contact him. I don’t even have permission to post this poem. If anyone can put me in touch with him, I would be grateful.

Photo: “98/365: ♫ Red, Red Wine…” by rogersmj is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.