hello dear reader, as you can probably tell i love coffee, both drinking it and as a subject of writing; i've never made my own coffee before, but i've watched people make it and it's quite the art form, so i wanted to write a little something about it. hope you enjoy :)
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one: pick up the kettle
it will be hot
wrap your fingers precisely around
the handle where the heat has
not yet breached
and your hand will not
become a civil war of angry skin-
two: no, actually, first grind your coffee
(memory slips bode unfairness
to people like me
who get nothing done because
i am always doing something
that means nothing)
pour your coffee beans in a
grinder and wedge it
between your thighs
clench tight
the way you might hold
on to a balloon as a child
or your money as an adult
(do not use a blender
it is loud and abrasive
like a stepmother might be
and you lose all
the joy that is stored
in those grounds)
three: prepare your pourover
grab a filter
relish in the way it slips off
all the others with a crisp
swish
the noise that paper makes
when it slides against each other
(how is it that when i think of this
i also think of:
nails on a chalkboard
metal brakes against a railroad?)
place that filter in a
ceramic pour over that has been
carefully molded
scalloped
by someone who wakes
far earlier than you
and sleeps far later
and yet is still less happy
(or are they?
how should we measure happiness—
by what we have
or what we could have?)
four: take the kettle up again
the water will have settled
the coffee will steep slower
it will taste less dense and more like
smoke
(bland and disinterested;
the gaze of someone
whose eyes meet yours
and yet pass through you;
a ghostly dance between
minds that are not quite gone in
similar ways)
but it is the woes of a
brain whose filter
sifts nothing but air
put the pour over over a cup
that is probably far too big
because the pour over
holds on for its dear life
(just like i am
every day, every second)
it reaches just the rim
put a hand to the kettle lid
(it will burn, but less so
than having the lid
slip off and
bite off your
fingers one by one)
five: pour
it is surprising that this
takes the most grace
one word and yet there are
countless ways to do it
(the way there are thousands of
ways to grind coffee beans
and tens of thousands
to hold a cup of coffee)
poise at an angle that suits
your height
and your arms
let the water trickle out
just the right amount so that
it covers
the coffee
but does not drown it
(the way you floundered in
your daydreams
biting down screams;
you have learned from your
mistakes not to pour
too much)
six: wait
perhaps the hardest
of them all
four letters
one syllable
no gaps
and yet it signifies
the command to
stop
take a break
come back
(the coffee will still be here
when you return,
it reassures;
you are not so sure)
no doubt you
like me
will spend the
time lifting up the
pour over and checking
every second
how much liquid
has managed to squeeze
past the fickle filter
seven: drink
(don't burn your tongue)
YOU ARE READING
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Poesiea collection of random pieces of poetry that i've written in 2023. (really, anything from love to surrealism.) huge thanks to anyone who reads this; most of the stuff in here probably makes absolutely no sense (even to me, lol). mostly inspired by t...
