Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash
Light drips on the handle of our cups.
Mine is dark blue, hand
Crafted by a lady I met
Once, in Kentucky. It’s filled
With Camomile tea. No sugar.
Your cup is white, off white.
Filled with coffee, filled
With lots of cream, no sugar.
Cylindrical, perfectly
Rounded by machines.
We bought it at a Target
In New Jersey, that time
We went to visit my mom, after
You broke the one I got you
From that lady I met once.
*
I read about a type of Chinese pottery
That needs to be used consistently
Or it will crack.
It seems like a bit of a commitment.
I don't make tea that often and you
Don't make coffee in a tea pot.
*
Have I been hard to deal with,
Lately? I’ve been feeling that maybe
I am too difficult—I’m sorry
If that’s true. I’ll try harder.
“I ordered you a new mug”
“From Kentucky?”
“No, from Washington.”
“Oh” “I ordered two”
Tiana Murrieta is originally from New Jersey, though most of her months are spent in Massachusetts looking for a great bagel. When she is not on the brink of hypothermia (who does not love those New England winters?), she is working on growing a nice sized collection of poems.
