As it is, today –
doesn’t coffee taste delicious?
When it is warm with cream and sweet, like the very first taste
flowing over your suckling lips and tongue, filling the emptiness
that made you cry?
don’t the birds echo in your chest like friends
just out of reach in another room, making sounds
that you yearn toward, helpless as hunger?
As you rest your ribs and thighs against the crook of the sofa,
and warm your toes with the palm of your hand –
do you believe the reassurance of your own yielding embrace?
– and reach for sip of cold coffee
from the porcelain cup with violets
– and the birds explain themselves –
can you please remember that
today is just another day?