Oh dark and voluptuous cup,
whose bitter heat scalds the tongue
and wakes the blood before the mind,
whose heat warms
my cold hands.
I have loved you long.
You were steeped in tropic thunder,
cradled in the dripping green
of hills that sweat and labor
beneath a ruthless sun.
The earth squeezed all its darkness
into your small, fervent berry,
its grief, its sweetness, one.
You are no balm for gentle souls,
no honeyed thing, no lullaby.
You scald the drowsy eye open,
pull the dull heart
taut as a bowstring,
and the world, half-dreamed before,
grows suddenly, terribly near.
So let me drink you down, dark one,
my rich and mortal cup,
and feel the day's cold vastness
grow briefly, blessedly small.
Till the cup is empty,
and I must face it all.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
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