April 2, 2008

  • April Is National Poetry Month

    When You're Late (Again)

    All the warmth
    gone from the coffee
    pooled in the bottom
    of the cup, or drying
    in a brown splash circle
    on the counter where it dripped
    when I poured the second
    so you arrive, with an excuse
    and I'm cool as the dregs
    determined not to be appeased
    (this time)
    I'm invested, long on annoyance,
    short on being here with you
    I rehearse the story 
    of steam as it rose, drifted away.
    You drip poems between us.  Have you
    heard this one?  Listen to the phrase
    turned over at that end. 
    Now my story includes Jesus,
    Baudelaire, and cummings
    I don't remember that I'm cool
    I'm drunk on words and puncutation
    on the sound of the paper
    giving up cleverness and
    the scent of ink from your new pen. 
    I warm the food, and give you
    the gift I brought
    before you were late
    (again.)

    0402080907

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