One Drink

I came to myself
the boiling pot whistling
profane massacres
across the hall.

and I never made tea again
I watched the emptiness
of the sky
and this room the air could pass a thousand
birds through its spaces
for the many days the
living had left.

There must be empty
spaces inside the body
for a single drink that doesn’t scream—
I win
in spite of the world.

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About Kate Houck

Educator. Human. Poet. Seeking truth through experience.
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8 Responses to One Drink

  1. 5h2o says:

    This is lovely. Really nicely crafted.

  2. Wezzlehead says:

    Really enjoyed this – how it unfolds in such a measured way, leaving so many images.

  3. sheldonk2014 says:

    I would like to believe
    That as long as there’s a cup
    In front of me,it’s a good
    Day,As Sheldon Always

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