Thursday, March 24, 2011

Morning's Friend - An Object Poem

The ship’s steam rises, swelling

as water rushes into its cavity.

The portly belly

fills with liquid energy,

puffing and chugging,

it brims over with magic.


Coffee cascades into the pot

like water rushing to fill

a ship’s wake,

like a desert rain,

ready to be soaked up

by my sleep deprived

body.


Poured into a mug,

the savory liquid,

bitter and burning,

pacifies my tongue,

awakens my mind,

only stalling long enough

for a ship in harbor to unload.

Emptied.

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