"A Coffee Talk," A Poetry Post

One cup of coffee
bridged
seventy years between us.

I admit I
took the
first three long sips.

I then leaned over and
inclined my head to
nestle my vision
under your faraway gaze.

I watched you fade away
to the edge that
women go to:
eyes glossed over,
breath quieted,
nerves shaking...

I waited to see if you would go over.

When you came back,
I was almost shocked.

Then I realized who was holding the cup.

With seventy years between us
and a body gone fresh from a
long three weeks,
we sat there at a bedside table,
looking.

Nobody hollered,
nobody shivered,
nobody said a word,
but we both knew what the other was saying.

It was this hardness--
your hardness--
that let me offer the coffee.

It was this resemblance
that let us both drink it.

-T. D. James-Moss