Poem by Margaryta Golovchenko // Photograph by Toni Antonia
and see champagne bubbles as tiny
envelopes that burst with everything the outer world
has kept inside to this point.
The Pinot grapes have known this from the vine
as every night the sun bows its way down
so the moon could curtsy up.
and chemistry, the frosted glass of Venice
once more than the taffeta with some name attached
(to your left).
Think of now-solved mysteries
where once there was a god to explain how a clear solid
could be not-ice.
Think names and alphabets,
how few are known. Think ease with which
the cursive of a label becomes foreign
as night goes by. When offered to be translated think twice,
do not hesitate to be your own expert.[share]