Darkness of Still Coffee

by Stephen Keymer

Cold heavy stones
In the darkness of still coffee
The spoon lies on the table, stuck
Like a turtle on it's back, a metamorphosis
Of sorts, one side darker than the other.
Charcoal black stains on the consciousness...
Blood drop fills the eye of the serpent
With warm cocooned dreams
And resurrection.

Divinity in between a blink.
The self lost, exploring the haunting
Suppressed streets of the buzzing red light
Behind the eyes.

Outside, past the window, and into the theatre
Of the sky, clouds reenact
Particularly personal scenes of hallucinatory dementia
Of pains that still hurt, not of anger

Anymore

But of a sorrow that comes from reflections,
Warped and true on the starving belly of a spoon.
Cold heavy stones....