Cold Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Cold

My glass crystal, many sides
For whiskey, without ice
Not on the rock! No!
Filled with wine
It’s blood-red
I rinse and
Gums go
Blood
Red

Red
My lips
Teeth and,
Red my mouth
Halloween, there I
And lights, pumpkin,
What is this? I question.
And go wild. As a ghost; it is
Fun to scare youths and child;
Wine is right drug to get well!

I have pride, I don’t bow
I do not kiss ruler’s hand
MAJESTIES GET LOST

I have wine
I have mine
That is fine.