Friday, December 20, 2013

The Last Cup (Poem 262)

You take this ordinary 
suffering for quite a long time:
to avoid helping yourself
to the last cup 
of smoky coffee, to not 
consider the slosh of it into 
your smudged, brown mug--
the one with indentations where 
the artist's fingers found purchase--
creating a steam-pressed footprint
on the crackled letter 
(signature required) from your lawyer. 
Beyond this
window is a moonscape, astonishing
and devoid of rocks, trees, lizards, 
drawing your few visitors toward 
the glass--cold air helplessly tugged 
into the thin atmosphere 
of an overheated room.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six



(Photo: Joselyn Anfossi Mardones)