Sommelier

Last week I wasn’t able to post a poem because of a technical glitch happening (so I thought) with my blogging platform. It turns out the problem was with my word-processing app. Anyway, AI helped me troubleshoot and find a solution, so I am posting the sonnet I intended to post last week, “Sommelier.” This poem will be in my next book, A Song of Glass: Dreams, Stories, and Poems, which I hope to self-publish in the next month or so.

There’s been one delay, though a good one. I was showing my daughter AI-generated cover images to get feedback and started to get the “AI images are alright…if you’re into that sort of thing” vibe when she offered to paint something for me. I do prefer real human art when I can get it, so this was a welcome offer, even if it slowed down my publication timeline 😉

Sommelier

“As a dog returns to its vomit,” I
return to ruminate, to chew again
some half-digested memories of pain,
scraps of grief, and disappointment’s bile;
a stew I spewed and then lapped up again
so I could swish it round my mouth and savor
every nauseating fleck and flavor
of mourning’s chyme. I think—no, I pretend—
I must describe my sorrow’s flavor profile,
like some sommelier of suffering
curating a whine list. But all the while,
my stomach churns; I’m really just deferring
the purge I need to heal. God knows why
I keep what gags and sickens me inside.