Let me out, let me out,
the wine begs when I open the cellar.
I turn on the barrel’s faucet
and fill the pot with its slippery,
slinky eyes.
On the stove, the wine
fizzes and simmers
in a low voice,
thickened by sugar and cloves.
A crumble of cinnamon bark,
a length of lemon peel,
and my lover will leave the long roads,
leave out the winter’s dogs
and walk in from the cold,
frost-bitten, red nose.
The wine belly dances
on the stove
and twirls veils
of alcohol and spice:
Let me in, let me in.
I pour the brew into cups,
and night draws in, sweeter.
Lift it to your lips, love,
and take it all in
as if you’re drinking Christmas.