A porcelain mug with
cats printed
against a red
background. Meow.
Meow printed in funky
letters. Only
English-language cats
say meow.
It holds tea.
Three-quarters empty
with brown rings on the
inside
denoting the volume of
each previous swallow.
The delicacy of tannin.
It used to hold coffee,
back when I worked for
the DSS
before it became the
Benefits Agency
and I had my breakdown.
I didn't use it for
years
fearful of the
associations it brought;
of the mind-numbing
terror
visited on me by other
staff.
Now it holds my tea
and while I remember
the fear
it holds a little less
power now;
less than the pull of
tea.
2 comments:
I love this. There is so much power in reclaiming power, even just a touch of it. Tea is power, too.
Reading so much back poetry of yours this morning. I miss you and your dailies. :( How are you feeling? I can't open your file alas with the novella. Can you send me a different version, or is it too much effort. I miss reading you, too.
Will do :)
Thank you. I've been a bit rubbish with the dailies and haven't written one for three weeks or more. Still ill still... bleugh.
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