| Yesterday’s tea gathers reflections of wrens
and lilacs as sunlight sifts through shutters.
It waits on the kitchen counter,
grows cold in the afternoon shadows,
darkens and thickens while my briefcase bulges with haste.
I swirl the tea, splash its musky essence
into the white ceramic sink,
promise myself another cup, this time
an entire teapot
blue and white, flowers crafted from delicate fingers
of Vietnamese housewives gossiping in factories
returning home to steamed rice and pork.
Curved silver handles will be light against my grasp
as I tip the spout to its matching cup,
inhale the steam rising to my nostrils, fresh and clean,
savor golden warmth beneath my tongue. |
Content and Comment Guidelines
