Fanoula Sevastos Merlot sometimes it is enough to pick a grape leaf off the vine let its skin soften on your tongue rub your teeth along its veins and taste the musky sweetness of the vineyard Half Empty This is the book on the shelf of books that wrap around the room like a mother's arms. This, your last cigarette, smolders in the ashes. And these fingers, fine tuned instruments, sit silent on your lap. These are the raindrops that hum on the glass like a lover's moan. This is the bed cold without sheets. And this notebook, tossed open on the floor, is the poet's soliloquy. This is the song that no one sings and this is the music. Here, the poem I misplaced. Where have all the words gone? There is no heartbeat like this, a page half full, half empty.

Fanoula Sevastos is a writer by night and a public relations specialist by day. Her work has appeared in various journals including Compass Rose Review, Disclosures, and Slumgullion. She will also be published in the Summer '98 issue of Moondance. Fanoula resides in Cleveland, Ohio.