Saturday 5 November 2011

Morning Coffee


Reflected upon it, our story plays out
like a tale thrown across a curled page.
Its smooth curves of china transform our shapes
into wild-armed ravings of ghosts;
me, slippered and absurd with my hair left loose
and bright as a bowl of lemons,
and you, neck grizzled and eyes flat moons,
clamping your palms to your ears.
The caffeine fumes rise from our heads.

It sits there each morning, your white china cup,
as you throw back my words through curling smoke,
your pink thumbs tense little prawns.
Your cigarette glows in its saucer.
Another coffee if you would please,
darling.
You leave before taking a sip.

I watch after the swinging back door,
blood turning cold as your coffee.
I have taken your cup to the sink
where I wash its old throat like religion,
hook my finger through handled bone;
clean bubbles erupting like pearls.
Your fingerprints smear to nothing.

Gleaming and tiny, placed back on the wood,
I carry it close--
my polished whole heart on a saucer.
Twice now you have squeezed it tight
and thumped it down hard on the wood,
yet no chips cut through its bone-skin,
more stubborn, more real than a tooth.

3 comments:

  1. I returned to my old blogspot page and had to dig through a solid layer of dust to get there it's been neglected for so long.

    And as I get there I come across a little thumbnail picture that makes me smile and takes me back. So I click it and hope deep down that you hadn't fallen to the same cruel fate of laziness as me.

    I'm so glad I did. Nice to see you're still going, and stronger than ever.

    'I have taken your cup to the sink
    where I wash its old throat like religion,
    hook my finger through handled bone'

    It's beautiful. How you haven't made it yet I really don't know, but I am certain you will.

    From an old acquaintance and life-long fan - well done :)

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  2. What a wonderful piece. You fuse the visual with the emotional to form a thing of beauty. Thanks for sharing.

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  3. This is quite good, somehow reminds me of a chilly aspect of being stuck in a routine of providing coffee..Lol sorry if my interpretation is off base, but an interesting read so far

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