The Cat and the Keurig
In the still-dark morning
The emberlight seeps in at
The window like an eye. She sits
in the chair at the desk,
I rest my paws on the edge of
The bed like snow.
Then the whir, the bronze bumblebee
Airplane hum, the smoky jet in the cup.
I sit on the bed and I watch,
Marvel at the steam curling like Christmas
Chimney ribbon, rising with a thousand
Dusky hearts to meet the still-dark day.
These are the moments that only we know,
She and I. We say nothing, we are silent paws
Like warm snow, sitting in the coffee-dark
Of an emberlight morning.
Coffee
You are a lover
That never fails to return
A letter, a color of
Warmth and steam and
Sleepy red palms,
A lake for biscuit crumb
Lily pads sparkling
In smoke, a morning
Dreamscape of darkness
Steeped in sweet light.
Cups of Coffee on Windowsills
Cups of coffee on windowsills
Were more than the cities could say —
Because they fogged up the tired glass
Like sugared steam rising
From the streets.
And all of the words that they failed to say
Meant more than a thousand lights —
Flooding the streets with neon, you know,
Was never my lot in life —
And they kissed everything long-lonely-gray
Into an everything-colored inside —
Scarlet-breath, smoke-tongue bittersweet
Tracing out smiley-faces and hearts
On frosted glass.
So cups of coffee on windowsills
Are more than the cities can say —
Because they make me believe — again —
On these long days
When I forget.