Coffee whispers through the wood
And my body floats erect
A golden pot that glistens should
Kiss the flame’s neglect
A fire raised before I rise
alights the blackest mourning sky
My walls shed blue frigid ice
Sirens lift it while I lie
The city’s still as stone
The walkers chatter and moan as clichés condone
My room is bare (save the coffee air)
Inside, I call this home
The springs erupt as I get up
To turn the kettle free
My day seems frozen in the cup
Where my Mexico coffee should be
The boards whine low with scorn
They plead my feet avoid them
More,
and tear my skin
with their mocha pins
So I sip my coffee, torn