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Thursday, July 10, 2014

Morning Coffee

the morning coffee was hot and black
(my second of the day)
and you leaned gently back
in your seat as if to say
you know motherhood takes two,
don't you?

                    and I told you without saying a thing
to trust I would be there for you,
to just put your hand here
to feel the beat we share
that would bring me from anywhere
back to you;

                    and how you had laughed, then;
your poetry laying open the air
to our loving silliness, and you said
how it made no sense to be
so profound this early

                    in the morning, and when you looked at me,
was it a moment of epiphany? for when
had we become two dots joined in the same place
to find us sitting here suddenly,
to become the clichéd "we"
over a morning cup of coffee?
where our words

                    had become thoughts,
our minds had mouths,
how our eyes now talked without blinking;
how we believed without seeing;
where we understood finally
that this was merging;

                    we had given all we had
and there was no going back,
like coffee that turns the water black,
nothing can separate components
that neither begin nor end any more,
but simply blend
into something new,
better than before;

                    and then I tasted you
(my third of the day)
and you leaned gently forward
on your shelf as if to say
take me then, as I take you;
dissolve me into you,
for real love itself must be selfless,
if it's to be true.

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