Monday, September 23, 2013

A New Kind of Sangria

A New Kind of Sangria

The pink hibiscus petal floats to the surface
of the pitcher, then lifts from it, shaking
the wine from its edges, wet dog trying
to rid itself of the heavy fur. Petal floats,
seeks and finds stem on the counter, reattaches
itself, and in come the other petals, a whole
flower again, a swarm of petals, sliced fruit
flying toward you, darts waking to their own
will. There are consequences for trying to drink
the garden.


  1. Personification, the T-1000 flowers, and that dog comparison were all fantastically done.

  2. Wonderful, Hannah. Love that last line.

  3. Just wanted to thank you all for commenting here. I am behind on commenting on others' blogs, but always reading, of course!

    I appreciate you reading this.


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.