"A Gourd of Goblin Wine" by Erik Hunger

A Gourd of Goblin Wine

A Gourd of Goblin Wine

One enchanted evening, I hitched my
carriage to a lightning bug and drew glowing trails
across the sky. The Moon didn't like us
verily she did not, yet laughter was her reward
"Sour Selene!" we called her,
merriment afloat on ether of grape.
A little fae-ling flitted about the window. I soon let it in
this too-perfect child, ne'er man nor woman but the best
parts of both.
I saluted the wee thing
to the tune of lupine howls
echoed a seat or two to the rear by my canine friend.
"Pass the bottle!" cried the Hound
as the pixie laughed and dusted us all.
I, feeling proper in tattered hat and overcoat,
made certain our steed was the first to drink
for I knew the rest of us could out-float lillypads.
"Hither and yon, anon, alas!" spoke the Hound,
I presume directing the Firefly
while the giggling sprite slurped the last wine from his bowl.
"While the Moon and the Stars are conveniently ours
we'll carry on yet another day. Yes, carry on, without delay!"
So we rode through the sky until the dawn burned our eyes and the
butterfly sylph lay within a wineglass to sleep,
while the measure of our steed became less than it was
and our canine friend curled about my feet.
For my part I saluted our fair carriage
(though it hadn't said a word to me the entire evening)
and stumbled on to bed before the glamour faded.
Never use a gourd for a pumpkin, I say, and with reason!
Oh how me 'eads gonna 'urt...