The shattered cup,
Licks my floor;
The saliva escapes from the porcelain teeth,
And freshens the room
With cocoa air.
The reddish cake
rests on the plateau--
Reaching out for the fork at the plateau's end
to cut through velvet flesh,
lay across the seven seas.
The stifled burner houses quarrelsome crowns;
A jagged couple duels for the silver throne.
Til the kingdom melts in flame, and embers
stain the silver in a veil of ash.
The breath of a dying land
Covers my shambled kitchen,
And the fragrance entangles itself
with the immigrant air.
-----Gazee<3
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 6:39 AM UTC
The shattered cup,
Licks my floor;
The saliva escapes from the porcelain teeth,
And freshens the room
With cocoa air.
The reddish cake
rests on the plateau--
Reaching out for the fork at the plateau's end
to cut through velvet flesh,
lay across the seven seas.
The stifled burner houses quarrelsome crowns;
A jagged couple duels for the silver throne.
Til the kingdom melts in flame, and embers
stain the silver in a veil of ash.
The breath of a dying land
Covers my shambled kitchen,
And the fragrance entangles itself
with the immigrant air.
-----Gazee<3
A reciprocal look at the "shuttering" of a room, and how distance can define a place you call home. Part of a larger series I’m building out of the mess called "My house is in shambles"... Stay tuned..