Spread out Syrah noir wide, slide up
wine glass side, stick in patterns
to the edge, like leftover phrases, words
lining the darkened bottom
of a writing drawer. Try to read
some kind of future in the tailings,
see a story finally written,
were there light enough, or life,
or snowy woods, or hawks
finding wind to soar and dive.
Well, maybe one more glass,
no past, no looking back,
a bottle, two, alone, black sky,
hope the only ending, no you.