Poetry

Cupped

Cooled lava

earthenware

delicate

yet with heft

An artist

formed it

fired it

the glaze

a deeply rich

burnished caramel

with glints of sky blue

The rim round as eternity

with an undulating edge

This cup fits snugly in its saucer

a contrasting colour

of matte

almost black

dark chocolate

Appearing utilitarian at first

when you look up close

you see

how beautifully

it is made

I languish in bed

enclosing this cup

in both hands

The warmth

spreads to my fingerprints

as the tea cools

to just the right temperature

I draw the delicious rim to my lips

I drink

I am restored

This poem was inspired by one of my favourite poets Selima Hill’s anthology “Portrait of my Lover as a Horse” where she wrote a series of poems likening her lover to inanimate or unusual objects.

Poetry

to write this poem

I had to dig

deep,

deep down

into a drawer

that had been left untouched for years

Thick with dust and

terrible memories.

To write this poem

I exposed parts of my unbearable past

layers of papers like igneous rock

Letters from lovers

irrelevant newspaper clippings

Rambling accounts of dreams

dog-eared scripts and

labored scrawlings.

I had to read all of this

To write this poem.

 

To write,

I learnt how to breathe

differently

and let go.