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  • Writer's pictureAnne Mitchell

Dear Coffee


I wake you into a pot

at 3:30 am, grace in hazel,

eyes barely open.

A plunge into the pool

of Cashew Milk & Colorado Honey.


You perfume the kitchen,

lure to a second cup, a wander

from the decomposition book,

from the gold pen, fountain dry.

Courage in my cup.


A shawl of terrior, wrap in ochre,

Oh how I regret the dalliance

In Matcha, frothed still no match

for hints of clove and cabin,

You are my Kansas, I’m home.


What times we have had!

The train station in Trieste

you danced with Illy Cafe cups,

demi-tass spoons, whistled through spigots

of the Espresso Speziale.


Hungover, waterlogged in milk

Nescafé packet, a ferry to Corfu,

In Yemen, a turbaned driver boasted

Qat leaves eclipsed Coffee, you returned

with the Turks, a thick sludge in a glass cup.


Hawaii, your Ohana roots

bushed pedigree, a sway of hibiscus

blossom to white snow of Kona Gold,

manes of gold medal leis

drape your Lion blend.


I love you when you wake

naked, oily, comfortable in your own bean,

in my palm, a string of worry beads,

ceremony to brew

your powder, to muse.

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