Red

by Marie Cloutier

I wanted red, I

wanted wine, sangria, red

prosciutto, raw strips.

I wanted meat; I

wanted more, I wanted it

all, the flaming plate.

Flaming goblet, and

more, always more, just red, more

red, no regrets, just red.

***

Marie Cloutier grew up in New England and now lives outside NYC where she writes poetry and creative nonfiction. She is working on a memoir and is an avid quilter and beginner piano student.