Oh For A Glass Of Sauterne Wine Poem by David McLansky

Oh for a glass of sauterne wine,
Cool and clear in bright sunshine
Pressed from grapes from Laurentian hills
That I might sip at rest and still;
That I might toast with upraised glass
The fertile mounds of scoured Alsace,
And be that boy again once more
Of knitted limbs with movements sure;
And not this twitching knotted wreck,
Grim and sour of dour aspect,
Whose alternates his jerks and writhes
With muscles locked and paralyzed