Coffee Collections
the girl who talked to the dead
sat on a stool by the window
sipping a latte, acting just like
any other grown up she knew
at least
the ones who could
afford $2.50 for a cup of Joe
on a cold January morning.
i knew her from the tilt of her head,
the shadows
that lived in her eyes.
sleep held her hostage
on those nights
when the barometer fell
when night stretched
thin piercing holes
into the late afternoon.
she felt young to me.
what does someone so young know
about death anyway.
there are no text books for this class.
you either have it or you don't.
she did.
she blew the heat from the edge of her cup
i knew coffee, but not her love of it
it felt like history
tasted of the dirt under her feet
thick and full
steam hit my face
enveloped me in scent
i had forgotten
she was there to take me home
that is what the steam said
and the smile in her eyes.
copyright/all rights reserved 2018 Audrey Howitt
Posted for D'verse and for Poets United
A powerful write! I love the capture!
ReplyDeleteThank you Ayala!
DeleteWell my goodness! That was different. The same powerful images, the same high quality...just different.
ReplyDeleteThanks Bill for your comments--it is different! I am experimenting a bit with some longer forms--we'll see what happens--
DeleteI think that's especially what poets do - talk with the dead. Our familiars are winged and our masters always surprise.
ReplyDeleteQuite a warm and inviting picture. Coffee houses invite friendship
ReplyDeleteNice ending and portrayal of death.
ReplyDeleteI love the narrative of your poem, Audrey, and especially the lines:
ReplyDelete'i knew her from the tilt of her head,
the shadows
that lived in her eyes.
sleep held her hostage
on those nights
when the barometer fell'
and
'it felt like history
tasted of the dirt under her feet
thick and full'.
And that is a killer ending.
Definitely a dark roast...
ReplyDeleteSweet!
ReplyDeleteDeliciously dark and enticing!!
ReplyDeleteCheers.. Yes.. Cups of Coffee
ReplyDeleteto: folks who take us From:
places
we are
before
ParTiCuLaRLY
when the coffee tastes good
for now.. funny little sad places to:
So cOld Bitter Sweet
diSTanT
From: now..
And it's True..
i don't drink coffee..
job
well done..:)
I think she who talks to the dead knows more than most people who talk to the living. We can learn a lot from those who converse with the other side.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem! And intriguing. I want to read this one again and again.
ReplyDeleteMy goodness, this is amazing.
ReplyDeleteI love this section (and the last two stanzas):
"there are no text books for this class.
you either have it or you don't.
she did.
she blew the heat from the edge of her cup
i knew coffee, but not her love of it"
There is an intriguing story here. Very enjoyable read, Audrey.
ReplyDeleteWell wow what an opening line that just kept weaving and turning the images until the end...nicely done!!
ReplyDeleteI love what you've done with this longer form. I have a sense of a story here - albeit an intriguing, mysterious one - not just the story of the girl but the story of where the storyteller is coming from. You imbued this piece with some really incredible lines ... impactful ... nuanced lines . A really brilliant poem, Audrey.
ReplyDeleteSuper poem. The last lines are incredible.
ReplyDeleteThis is superb. I thought it was going to be a portrait of a girl, yet as it proceeds and definitely at the end it is a bit of a shocker about the narrator. Excellently weaved. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteWhat a fascinating and enjoyable read this was especially the closing lines.
ReplyDeleteOh so nice to read this again.. I thought I had left a comment but I cannot see it... I can see so much in this story, but somehow your connection through the steam of the coffee talked to me.
ReplyDeleteCreepy in such a GOOD way. Loved this.
ReplyDeleteDark and intriguing Audrey, But talking to the dead can be an education in fact! Patience and empathy are invoked!
ReplyDeleteHank
Your words are exquisite - a sheer pleasure to read.
ReplyDeleteI hope I am taken home that way.
Anna :o]