By Michael Tugendhat
She brings
a translucent
bottle to drink
herself to sleep
into a dead
escrow account
she shovels her husband
and his kids
social security
numbers
and his
timeshare.
She’s downstairs
fingering the wine bottles
pulling the labels off
nude glasses.
There, in that cellar
she dials down the thermostat
wraps herself in merlot
and waits for the wine to age.
Clutching at Straws 