Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
4d
There is no graceful transition
of a cup of hot hot coffee
from one hand to another hand,
the cup only has one handle.

It is inherantly akward,
almost as if it’s intended,
a brief, forced, colaboration
to keep the coffee in the cup.

Contorting to not spill a drop,
Still, clumbsy, after these long years
and a thousand repetitions,
ten thousand hot cups of coffee.

We angle ourselves to the task,
a brief intimate fumbling,
until the cup is handed off,
and the best part of it is gone.

                                     -Still Here
Written by
Still Here  55/M/Southeastern US
(55/M/Southeastern US)   
49
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems