Drunk Song In May

Frank Stanford

All the fine snakes
woke up like vines
Their teeth are getting sweet as elderberries
When I go my way I leave
traces not prints
not sounds
That stream that stream
she rose up last night
and walked in her sleep
liked to carried me away
Her shift was black
as sin
Her legs were just as bad
My bottles they are empty
My boat it is full
Everything I got
could fit right here
like a strange lady's glove
you find in your pasture
When the water goes down with its snakes
And the morning sun rises like a mandolin
I'll pick it up

Ginny Stanford