Monday, September 13, 2010

Yesterday’s Coffee

Yesterday’s coffee sits in the bottom of my cup
Cold, murky, slicked with oil
Images of mosquito-infested bogs lined with old trash
Flash behind my eyes
Then the haunts from the day before visit
Ill-chosen words, missteps, opportunity not grasped
A yawn returns the cup
Emptied and rinsed, it waits
For the fresh potential dripping into the pot