A new month brings new poetry! This one is a bit sillier: I came up with the concept during a writing session with the RWW summer residency last August. During a course on magical realism in poetry, I let myself have a little fun and ended up with this new poem. Have a look and revel in the silliness!
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Coffee Grounds and Cheesecakes
Dishes hiss together, forks
scratching on knives as I slide
their silver bodies into the sink;
and sink they do, like my little helpers
to the bottom of the bowl full
of hot water that seeps into
my hands and tears my skin
pore by pore
knuckle by knuckle.
I stop scrubbing and wipe my hands,
gingerly, on my apron, as I am called,
to the front
to craft a cinnamon dulce latte.
I jump out of the backroom but halt
when I hear a metallic clink. I turn.
It’s the fork and the knife, down on
the floor, and my face breaks
into a smile as I see that they’ve grown legs,
metallic arms and legs, shimmering in the
glowing cafe light, and as Momma Mia
howls through the cafe, they start to dance
Irish jigs that make me cackle.
I forget the cinnamon as I see an extra dish
that a customer has abandoned on his
empty table.
My hips swing through the doors, bringing me
into the lobby,
and the fork, bless him,
and the knife, bless her,
they follow me and help me gather plates.
Coffee grinds and cheesecakes permeate the air,
and I know
this precious cutlery
can smell it all.
I wonder why they’ve come to visit me
here, of all places.
Don’t they know I’m busy?
Don’t they know I’m scared?
Their shining hands reach up to me,
as if to say,
We know.
That’s why we’ve come.
Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash
Rachel Sandell 