does the darjeeling settle at the poem bottom,
drifting, dropping to the base, falling from
the letters above,  struggling to defy gravity,

how would you know, into my tummy go 
30+ ounces of caribbean dark aromatic
coffee, tinged with mocha forming 
skim milk, ccs, recorded and ordered 
for final disbursement

both darjeeling and I, have r~aged older,
my poetry advances in a different track,
the tea will be drained, and the poet
regardless of position let new ones 
puddle, huddling, sating the cup's bottom
awaiting further instructions, most likely 
drain dying riverdrops, almagamating, 
ready to shower the seekers nearby,