Labels on Wine
Atticus Poetry
1
Thinking
of you
is a
poison
I drink
often.
2
Come on
darling,
it’s never
too late
to begin
our love
again.
3
I hope to
arrive at
my death,
late, in love,
and a little
drunk.
4
Love
could
be
labeled
poison
and we’d
drink
it
anyways.
Polaroid collages
My Poetry
In response to the first Atticus poem:
cold on my tongue,
but like a match
being struck on the
back of my throat
it was warm when I
swallowed and my
mind caught fire
leaving a shadow
just your shape and
size etched on the
inside of my skull.
the rest of my
head became a
foggy september
day, but every evening
now, you’re my nightcap.
In response to the third Atticus poem:
The doors are closing and I
sprint down the hall, arm
outstretched to stop the train
before I can board. Roses laid on
twin headstones brought crimson
to the grey graveyard. Lovers’
hands clasped together six feet
underground. The curtain is closing
but I stumble around the stage, still
taking a final bow, my cheeks
flushed with the merlot
hanging on to my last breath.
Sophia Penney 