Robert Tremmel
Winery woman
hands me down a glass
the color of night sky.
When I drink it
I can feel every star
burning and when she laughs
the stars shudder and go out.
Deep between her breasts
a fountain of night sky
splashes in a brick courtyard.
Night sky flows through bread
baking in brick ovens
and true eternity still flows.
Far below, down twisted stairs
racks of sealed barrels bleed
nearly invisible
drops of night sky.
Bio
Robert Tremmel lives and writes in Ankeny, Iowa. Recently, he's published in Rattle, Off the Coast, Santa Fe Literary Review, Cold Mountain Review, Hotel Amerika, Earth's Daughters, Roanoke Review, The Fourth River, Edge, and others. He's also published two collections and a Chapbook titled There is a Naked Man with Main Street Rag.