Tea

My mother taught me to drink it

by the gallon,

a flood of dirty brown the best accompaniment to

tiredness boredom grief conversation

the passage of time.

 

In case of shock, add sugar.

 

While some warm the pot and measure the leaves,

I dunk

bags bought by the hundred in a box

of tannin and dust, each morning repeating

that first, best moment

when the water boils,

 

and what I have before me is enough.

 

 

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