Agony

I'm a bead of water
on your shiny table top.

You were staring at me,
motionless

with wine legs in your glass
clearly visible in the shadow.

Using a tea spoon you tugged
my contour time and again,
but tenderly
never upsetting the roundedness.

On a whim your forefinger neared,
encircled me

and left.

Then a wax paper end
caressed my outline,
I shivered.

Next, a needle pleaded
to make me a crown on its head

pierced ceaselessly

desperately.

All I see now
is a splash of Bulls Blood
on the whitish wall