Sauvignon Blanc
after Leonie Adams
We sing Red, Red Wine on a tour trolley through Napa
and the tannins turn in my stomach
it’s warm at the vineyard and the lavender is buzzy
with bumbles. It’s a floppy hat kind of a day,
and I drink what’s offered instead of pouring it out
I lose track of the wine but everything around me
is so busy becoming beautiful and the air is dusty sweet
while the wine is busy churning to vinegar inside me
and the sun has gotten to my head, but for now I’m here
exchanging lazy smiles with my friend,
and the bouquet is apricots, melon, and salt.
Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in the Avalon Literary Review, Feral, Opal Age Tribune, and California Quarterly.