After Breakfast
the breakfast of yesterday morning
lies untouched on the kitchen table
soggy cereal in day-old milk; a
rotten kind of extinction
ghosts of our fight linger in the room;
see the clouds of steam in the room
condensation clinging to the window in water
droplets; falling, falling falling
look: see how the sun touches the horizon
awash with the words we never said
nullifying your presence, treacherous
being of flesh and want
today I leave, coffee in hand
I do not eat breakfast anymore
morning coffee
o’ elixir of healing, how I treasure
the first sip of morning brew; morning
lethargy seeps in from our window cracked
open. I revel in the taste, caffeine resurrection;
clouded eyes become clear once more.
paper cups lie crumpled up in the wastebasket by
the pot, touched by others’ hands, each one new revival.
the warmth trickles into my hands and
I awaken.
Minute Magazine 