tea

 

tea

today

    may it be as simple

        as a cold bowl of green

            tea holding its forgotten

                own through

night-

    time, may it be, as it's

        grown bold and bolder

            in the steep decline of its

life

    be drawn to my mouth

        regardless of the bitter an-

            tipication regardless of the least

                heat of when it was first urged

open, 

    leaf from fist to fingers, just

        like before, like when it was

            pinched from the tree, like

when,

    thumb and finger rub the impos-

        sibility of such lengths of roads

            down mountains up into the air

to sit

    beneath the lid and spout

        and wait the day out and then

            the night, for lips, for muscle, 

                struck, though who can explain it?

dumb