About vessels. Where we store feelings and memories, mean comments we shouldn’t say out loud and secret things.
Sometimes they go right down into the cups we’re holding. They spill and we clean them up when we cradle our face in the towel longer than it needs to dry us off.
I breathe a sigh Into a cup To stay later Or fill it up ··· Boiling Hot Tea I hold a tea in a cup that never dries Tingling the comfort of fullness in my throat Generosity guards diluation against time Bubbles harbour a threat to me What's this? You topple and turn A mean comment, a retreat I churn— Not now! A singe in my hand Not true! I'm bitter with use Tedious and sore to sip I slant at your stained fixture All I wish now is for relief You take my hardiness away from me