the
black will bite the back of my throat
in
the spot which holds the beginnings
of
the universal sob.
But
with milk
swirling
upon entry, the blackness fades
one
tint at a time to a taupe
that
coddles like her milk,
cauterizing
the soar sad throat
carrying
comfort time and time again
to
that deep darkness within.
The
sugar tastes of breakfast cookies shaped like an “S,”
feasted
upon in my grandmother’s nest,
now
tasting even sweeter
in
this moment between earth and ether:
the
kettle whistle blowing,
the
sound of three mugs’ emptiness disappearing,
and
with milk and sugar, all vacuums dissolving,
my
lips slowly sipping the steeping sap,
suckling
at the teat of warmth and comfort and love.
Every
cup of tea I drink is my mother and my grandmother.
June,
2010
Ankara,
Turkey
"Black Tea with Milk and Sugar" was first published in Miller's Pond Poetry Magazine. Fall 2014. Online. http://www.millerspondpoetry.com/index.php/issues/web_editions1
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