Rote Poem by Kelly Vinal

Dionysus, I came to you, rode up
On the rote, the absolute of absolution -
Now this calls.
Fall is a cruel mistress, I fell,
And a proxy war ensued
Between dreams and desires;
Between ice and campground fires:
Held me up before the dawn.
I wait like a penny in your pocket,
1966 it says.
Riding on the rote, I know
Life, knowing nothing about it.
Liberator, free me from the sun!
I’m a slave -
I’m a slave to this repetition.
Bacchus never let me go
Wherever it is we go
When it’s done with us.
Dreaming of sleep,
I came up on the rote,
Absolved myself of sin -
Spent that penny at the corner market,
And I fell again.