Today's poem is by Bonnie Jo Campbell

Drink Me
       

I'm small potatoes, not vodka, my body
is a body of work. As a woman

I've been terrorized by God and spirits.
My mother brewed a strong liquor

from whatever juice was on hand—grapes,
pears; she even opened her veins. On

her deathbed she drank what remained.
She left none of her recipes, just

bottles of purple stuff that said, Wine
or vinegar, you decide, girl.

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Copyright © 2023 Bonnie Jo Campbell All rights reserved
from The Southern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission