Black Coffee

3 a.m.

a moonless night pours black coffee

into a bottomless cup

*

hands pan the dark

for the lip

of its silhouette

*

on the surface

black glass

broken by a spoon

circling

while the dark rings

the hand

*

I used to take it

with cream and sugar

now

I drink it black

to know

what I’ve been tasting

*

the mouthfeel

of elsewhere

burns my tongue

*

while the past

keeps entering

dressed as light

*

4 a.m.

over my shoulder

the sun

eight minutes late

as always

*

oblivious as livestock

we stretch our necks

to meet the dawn

*

and the cleaver

it carries

to cut the future

clean from the past

*

5 a.m.

no

don’t turn around now

you’re already

making history

*

another blurred face

suspended

in the dark roast

*

waiting

for the light

to catch up

*

*

*

Cover photo URL.